


Tale as Old as Time

by myheadsgonenumb



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Beauty and the Beast, Enchantments, F/M, Fairytale Rewrite, Fluff, Humour, Low Key Angel/Darla, Magic, Previous Cordy/ Xander, Reworked song lyrics in dialogue, Romance, Sort of a Crack Fic, Spike/Dru - Freeform, modern fairytale, no singing, no talking furniture, silly but sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:14:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28039758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myheadsgonenumb/pseuds/myheadsgonenumb
Summary: Sunnydale is just a normal, sleepy town - until the day Mr. Chase starts raving about the monster in the mansion on Crawford Street and how it has Cordelia locked in a dungeon.Disney's Beauty and the Beast reworked into a modern fairytale Buffyverse AU - with Cordelia and Doyle, and Xander in the role of Gaston!No vampires, slayers, demons or hellmouth. No IRS bust. But magic and enchantments. Post High school. Just a bit of lighthearted daftness but with ridiculous amounts of sweetness - even for Xander. Probably makes more sense if you are familiar with the 1991 Disney version of B&theB ... but that has to be everyone, right?
Relationships: Cordelia Chase/Allen Francis Doyle
Comments: 7
Kudos: 8





	1. Once Upon a Time

_Once upon a time, in a far away land (unless you happen to live in or near Southern California), there lived a young man who once had had everything his heart desired: love, adventure, gainful employment... But one by one, in the fullness of time and through his own mistakes, he had lost them all. His wife left him for another and his life grew dark and stale, until it was stripped of all meaning, stripped of all hope and stripped of a monthly paycheck._

_His heart became consumed with bitterness and anger. He turned to drink and took to gambling. He lost all his friends but found lots of trouble; bones were broken, threats were made, debts were mounting … the young man was sinking slowly, loved by nobody and with nobody to love. His life was cold and empty, he was all alone and determined to keep it that way - until one night, when an old beggar woman appeared at his door._

_The old woman was being pursued by dangerous thieves, she told him. They were snapping at her heels, she begged to come inside - for him to shelter her from the peril. She offered him a single rose in return for his protection._

_Suspicious of the old woman, and wishing to be left alone - to his bottle of scotch and an episode of The Price is Right - he turned her away, telling her there was nothing he could do. She warned him against doing nothing, that cowardice turned even the best men into monsters, as they stood back and allowed evil to take hold. That there was a punishment for every crime, even the crime of doing nothing. She was not asking him to fight these scoundrels, just to let her hide. But he turned her away again. Anyone who helped her was taking a chance … and he was not dying to take any chances._

_But when he dismissed her again, her helpless and haggard appearance melted away, revealing a beautiful enchantress. The young man tried to apologise, but it was too late, for she had seen the emptiness of his heart and the craven selfishness in his soul. As punishment, she transformed him into a hideous beast. His skin turned green and was mottled with blue spikes, spread across his face like a disease. His eyes turned red. When he saw his monstrous face in the mirror, he wept and begged to be changed back, but she showed him no pity._

_Ashamed of his hideous appearance, he fled into the night - leaving behind him the town he had lived in with his wife and his friends. He searched, by cover of darkness, for a place where no one would look for him, no one would know him; somewhere where he could hide away from all the world and never be seen or heard of again._

_Eventually, he found sanctuary in an abandoned mansion on the outskirts of a small town and concealed himself inside, with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world._

_The rose she had offered him was truly an enchanted rose, which would bloom for just one complete turn of the seasons. If he could fill his heart with love, so that he may become selfless and brave, before the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time._

_As the days passed by and the weeks turned into months, he fell into despair and lost all hope. For if he was to learn to be brave and selfless, if his heart was to be filled with love, then he would have to be loved in return … and who could ever learn to love a beast?_


	2. Little Town

The morning was golden, the sun shone down on the world below and the birds sang merrily in the trees, greeting the new dawn. The day was fresh and bright with promise, though perhaps that promise was limited in this particular town. Certainly, the young woman walking listlessly down the sidewalk felt that way, as she hung around waiting for the Espresso Pump to open. She sighed deeply to herself, for this town was so small and boring and every day was just like the one before. It was a little town, she thought to herself, filled with little people - with nothing to say for themselves except …

The metal grilles rolled back, opening up the coffee shop. 'Bonjour,' the barista greeted her when he saw her standing there, waiting.

'Whatever.' She scowled, she wasn't in the mood for some guy to think he was cute and speak French at her. 'I'll have a half caf, skinny triple moccachino with extra cream to go,' she gave her order. 'And a Danish. And make sure it's one with lots of raisins - no skimping.'

The barista hopped to it, the steam began to pour from the coffee machine and the machine itself began to whirr and whine as the brown of the coffee and the white of the milk dribbled simultaneously into the styrofoam cup. Meanwhile, a Danish was wrapped in a napkin and handed across, and then - coffee poured - the cream was squirted on top. 'I said extra cream,' she reminded him. He obliged. The cream sat on top of the coffee, glistening and melting, as she paid and turned to leave. 'Have a nice day,' the barista said to her.

'Whatever.'

Order in hand, she stepped back out into the street and watched as the town of Sunnydale woke up around her. There went the mailman with his van like always, the same old parcels and packages to hand out. Every day was just the same, she thought glumly, every morning since she came to be born into this poor, provincial town …

'Good morning, Cordelia!' the mailman said to her as she walked past him.

'Morning.' She took a sip of her coffee.

'Where are you off to?'

'Just the store. I need to see if the new issue of Vogue is in - I've got to get ideas for clothes for when I go off to college…'

'That's nice,' the mailman said vaguely, not really listening, 'here - I've got a few letters for you father, be a doll and hand them over for me, save me a job.' She took the letters and placed them in her purse and then - forgotten about by the mailman, who had returned to work - she continued down the sidewalk, barging her way between two women to get past them.

The women both turned to stare after her, 'look, there she goes, that girl is rude - no question.'

'She thinks she's better than us all,'

'I feel ya,' her friend nodded in agreement.

'With her daddy's credit card, and her heart so cold and hard…'

'She really is a horrid girl, that Cordelia!'

But Cordelia walked on, paying them no mind as they talked about her. She didn't even realise they were there, her thoughts were decidedly elsewhere. Her thoughts were often elsewhere, she didn't bother much with the thoughts and feelings of other people. That upset them. A lot. Sometimes they yelled at her. But she never noticed ... her thoughts were elsewhere.

The sun rose higher and the street was coming more and more to life, as stores opened their shutters and shoppers hurried to and fro, calling out greetings to each other; bumping into each other and getting into tussles; cars drove up and down searching for a place to park; pedestrians wended their way through the traffic whilst radios sounded through open windows, and horns blared.

Cordelia sipped her coffee and shook her head, ignoring it all - the hustle and bustle of little people leading little lives. How could they be content, when this place was their lot in life? She wanted so much more. There _must_ be more than this provincial life! She finished the last sip of her moccachino and threw the empty coffee cup in the trash before she entered the store, the bell above the door tinkled as she went inside. It was dark and cool and shady in here, the sunlight trickled through the windows, but the glass was grimy and so the light cast patterns on the floor. The clerk was inside, propped up against the counter and half hidden in the shadows, he smiled when he saw her. 'Morning, Cordelia, back already?'

'Duh! Today is the release of the latest issue of Vogue, I've been waiting for it - do you have it in?'

The store clerk chuckled and reached under the counter, taking out a copy of the glossy, fashion magazine. 'I put this one aside to save for you, should have known you'd be in bright and early. Though hell if I know what you need all these magazines for. Surely if you've looked at one you've looked at them all?'

Cordelia looked scandalised. 'Fashions change every month! Designers are always releasing new lines and you can't fit every purse or every shoe into just one glossy. You gotta check 'em all to make sure you don't miss anything. If I'm gonna be the best dressed girl at college, I'm gonna need to pull out all the stops. I got into Columbia - in a couple of months, I'll live in New York City. I can't go around dressed like I shop at JCPenney.'

The clerk laughed again, 'well, I've never known anyone care quite so much about shoes and dresses as you, Cordy - that's for damn sure.'

'Well, duh!' She paid for her magazine and stepped back outside into the sunshine. The warm breeze tickled her skin and gently blew the strands of hair away from her face. The magazine felt hot in her hands, the pictures just burning their way through the glossy pages, wanting to be looked at, and she found she couldn't wait until she got home. Ignoring the frantic blare of the horns and the squeals of brakes, she stepped out into the traffic, her nose already buried between the glossy pages - lost to everything but the images of designer clothes, draped across the bodies of razor-thin models, dancing tantalisingly before her eyes.

...

Sitting on high stools at a table outside the coffee shop, Harmony and Aura watched her go past, their eyes narrowed. 'Look there she goes,' Harmony said, 'she has been so weird lately. I wonder if she's feeling well?'

'Her nose is always in between pages of the latest magazine.'

'Getting ready for college? Or pining for Xander?'

'There's just no way to tell.'

...

Cordelia suddenly came to a stop, entranced by something she had seen on the page, 'oh! Isn't this amazing!' She dropped down onto a bench and held the glossy magazine out to show to a chocolate brown Labrador tied up beside her. 'This is just so awesome, 'cause you see: this dress? - it's on special offer,' she pointed it out to the dog, 'and if you buy it now you get a clutch purse free.' The Labrador took a bite of her page and placidly chewed on the paper, she ignored him and feverishly rifled through the pages looking for more offers, lost to the world.

...

Down the street, Harmony and Aura still watched her. 'You know it's a shame we had to boot her from the gang, she really reigned over us as Queen bee.'

'But despite her pretty face, she was dating that waste of space,' Aura reminded her.

Harmony sighed, 'yeah, she turned out to be nothing like the rest of us, did C.'

...

The bell above the comic book store rang and Xander and Jesse stepped out into the street, their new wares clutched tightly in their hands. 'Man - you really showed him, Xander,' Jesse was saying, 'I thought he was gonna cry.'

'The trick is to show no fear,' Xander said wisely. 'See - you gotta know what everything's worth, and if what you're after is rare or not. Now, if we'd been buying some old timey 1980s edition, then that guy was asking a fair price. But The Amazing Spider Man Volume 2 has only just started it's run. That means those last volume one titles are still ten a penny. Sometimes you just gotta be a man. Look a guy in the eye and say: "no. I'm not paying that for my comic books".'

'Well, you were like a legend in there, or something, man - I don't know how you did it.'

'Yeah, shame I don't have that same legendary status when it comes to women,' he came to a stop and gazed down the street, where Cordelia was visible, sitting on her bench reading her fashion magazine.

Jesse came to a stop beside him and followed the direction of his gaze. 'Cordelia.' He looked at his friend, 'what are you thinking, man?'

'That I'll go and talk to her.'

'No, no - don't do that, seriously, dude. The way she looks at you now, it's like she wishes you had gangrene on your face just … show a bit of pride, back off.'

But Xander was already halfway down the road. 'I can't back off. She's the most beautiful girl in town. And she was mine. A beautiful girl actually wanted to be with _me._ '

'Yeah, and you screwed it up - you're a screw up,' Jesse hurried after him.

'But now she's leaving in a couple of months - and I wanna put things right. I don't want her to leave town when she's still mad at me. I wanna make it up to her.'

'And maybe get one last bit of touch before she goes?'

Xander shrugged, 'well, if she's feeling friendly...'

...

Harmony watched the two boys walk past, over the rim of her coffee cup. 'Look, there he goes!' she said to Aura, 'what _was_ she thinking? Xander Harris! He's not even cute. That shirt, those shoes, did his mom dress him? He's just this dumb and dorky kind of brute.'

...

A shadow loomed across Cordelia, blotting out the warmth of the sun - and she looked up in irritation.

'Hey, Cordy,' Xander said to her.

She snorted. 'What do _you_ want?'

At a loss for anything to say, he snatched the magazine from her hands and flicked through it. 'Why are you always looking at these, don't they all look the same?'

'Hey! Give that back, you jerk!'

She made a grab for it, but he held it out of her reach. She jumped to her feet and took hold of one half of the magazine. But Xander did not let go of the other. They began to tussle. 'How many pairs of shoes can one person want to own?' he asked her.

'Well, gee, Xander - I could dress like you. But then I'd be dressed like a homeless hobo.'

'I think he looks kinda debonair today,' Jesse said.

Xander's head snapped round to look at him, 'hey! I resent that,' he saw the confused look on his friend's face, '...or possibly "thank you".'

'Neither of you are fit to be seen in public, now gimme...' she tugged at her magazine and finally pulled it free from Xander's grip, but she misjudged the force and its slippery pages flew from her hands and landed crumpled in the gutter. Immediately, a car drove over the top of it.

Grumbling, she stepped into the road and picked it up, carefully bending back the pages so they were straight once more. 'Well, that was fun - let's _never_ do it again sometime. I'm going home.'

'Oh come on, Cordy,' he grabbed hold of her arm to stop her from leaving, 'I just wanted to talk.'

She stared down at his hand, at the place where he was touching her - her face was furious. 'I have _nothing_ to say to you. Now let me go.' She tore herself free and, crushed magazine hugged against her chest, she walked away in high dudgeon, her nose stuck in the air.

'Well, that went well,' Jesse said.

**...**

Cordelia's father was a wealthy man, and so her family lived in the sort of house which only wealthy people lived in. Mr. Chase worked very hard and he enjoyed the rewards he reaped, and he enjoyed showing them off to others. His car, his watch, his suits were always the best and his love of showing off encompassed his daughter - who also got the best of everything in order to show of her daddy's wealth; from her palomino pony, Keanu, to her wardrobe choc full of designer clothes just to wear to school. But even though he was a rather silly and vain man, Mr. Chase was not a bad one - and Cordelia was fond of him.

'Daddy, I'm home!' she called, stepping through the front door. Her father appeared in the hallway, dressed in a double breasted business suit and patting himself down, 'that's good … car keys, car keys?'

She picked them up from the bowl by the door and handed them over, with a smile. 'Right where you left 'em.'

'Thank you, poppet,' he pocketed them. 'Did you have a nice time in town today?'

'Not really. I can't wait to leave this place. I have no one to really talk to here.'

'What about that Xander, fella?' Mr. Chase asked, he was now checking his ruler straight parting in the hall mirror, 'he always made you happy.'

'Oh he made me happy, alright! Before he cheated on me, broke my heart and publicly humiliated me. Oh, daddy, I can't talk to Xander.'

'Well, not to worry,' he took hold of her arms and smiled at her. 'This business meeting today should secure a whole new untapped vein of wealth in this town. And then I'll be able to afford to let you live the high life in New York, when you get there. I'm sure there'll be plenty of like minded people for you to talk to in a place like that. College will be the start of a great, big adventure for you.' An alarm started to beep, and he looked at his watch distractedly. 'Already?' he muttered, shaking his head. 'Cordy, poppet, be a good girl and go fetch daddy's insulin.'

She went and retrieved his medicine from the fridge and took it back to him out in the hall. He didn't even blink as he stuck himself with the needle. 'OK, done. I'm going to be up at Crawford Street today, poppet - I'm on the cell if you need me.'

'I'll be fine, have a nice day,' She kissed him goodbye and then wandered off into the house to find a cool spot to finish reading Vogue.

**...**

Mr. Chase drove his Mercedes out to the edge of town and then took the lonely road out to Crawford Street. The hills rose steeply to the side of him, and the pine trees loomed from the soil, standing like soldiers at attention. The dappled light of the sun flashed between their branches and then danced against the windshield of his car, making it difficult for him to see. He raised an arm to shield his eyes - red blotches exploded in his visions and faded and then exploded again, dazzling him.

There was a slight bend in the road but, blinded as he was, he did not see it - and was not aware anything was wrong until a loud thud and the eruption of his airbag told him he had hit a tree. He was thrown towards the windshield and then snapped back into his seat. 'God damn!' he rubbed the back of his neck.

The horn was blaring out in one continuous, bleating note. He climbed out of the car and went round the front to take a look at the damage. The hood was all squashed and crumpled and steam hissed from the engine. The front tyre had been thrown off and was rolling away down the hill. 'God damn!' The tree, on the other hand, had barely a mark on it.

He took out his cell phone, hoping to call for help - but there were no bars on his screen, there was no coverage out in the hills. 'Oh hell, now - this is getting just too much.' He sighed in frustration, putting his hands on his hips and stared around himself, wondering what to do next.

That was when he heard a slipping, tumbling sound, like soil and pebbles sliding loose. And then he heard a crunch of footsteps and the even panting of hot breath. He turned to look - a coyote had just emerged from the tree line and was padding down the road towards him. He began to back away, 'nice doggie, nice doggie,' his voice wavered and cracked.

He heard the same padded footsteps behind him - and turned to see another headed from the opposite direction. And then another and then another slipped out from between the pine trees, until Mr. Chase was surrounded by a pack of circling coyotes, moving ever closer.

'Uh - this is is just - uh...' he inhaled sharply, his mouth had gone dry, he licked his parched lips. He tried to keep a wary eye on every single one of the animals. 'We can just…'

The first coyote threw its head back and started to howl, an undulating and unearthly yipping and barking. A moment later, the rest of the pack joined in its song.

'...run!' Mr. Chase finished up, turning tail and fleeing up the hill, through the pine trees. The soil was dry and crumbly and gave way under foot. He slipped and slid his way towards the top, losing his footing time and again, scrabbling back up and running on. Pine needles dug into the palms of his hands. He felt like his lungs were about to burst, he couldn't breathe… he loosened his collar, as he ran, and then pulled his tie from around his neck, letting it fall behind him in a streaming, red ribbon. His legs were turning to jelly beneath him … but all the while he could hear the pounding footfalls of the wild dogs chasing him, getting ever closer.

Gaining the ridge of the hill, he suddenly found himself in the looming shadow of a giant, concrete block of an abandoned old mansion - towering above him like an ancient Mayan temple. He ran towards it, calling for help, tugging on the wrought iron gates until they gave way. 'Help! Is there someone there?' He tumbled through, into the gardens, just as the first coyote sprang towards him, jaws snapping. He slammed the gate shut and the animal banged against the iron railings and bounced off. It got back to its feet and snapped at him, pacing up and down - joined by the others … but they couldn't get through the gate and, still keeping an eye on them, Mr. Chase hurried towards the safety of the house.

...

'Hello?' he called out as he pushed the door open, 'is there anybody here?' He thought he heard something, a slight rustle of sound, and jumped round to look. 'Hello? I crashed my car and was chased through the woods by damn coyotes. Is there anyone here?' He took more nervous steps inside, as no one answered him.

He found himself in a large, open space with an ornate, art deco chandelier hanging gracefully overhead and a huge fireplace set in the chimney breast. There was a fire crackling away merrily, despite the warmth of the day and the seeming emptiness of the place. He frowned, 'hello?'

'Bloke must have lost his way in the woods,' he heard a voice mutter.

'Shush!'

He whipped around, trying to see who was talking - but there was only shadows. He frowned again, and walked through the room - it was open right the way through to the other side of the building. He had come in at the back, and when he looked out of the front windows he saw the road, bending round to meet up with the driveway. This was the place he had been coming to! That road was the one he was supposed to drive along, if it hadn't been for that damn sun and those damn coyotes.

But the realisation made him frown deeper. For the mansion he was visiting today was supposed to be empty. It had long lain abandoned on the edge of town and he was looking into making a small fortune by buying up the land, cheaply, and developing it. But he had heard voices here, and the fire was lit. Well, that didn't make a damn lick of sense.

Unless the voices belonged to the businessmen he was here to meet. That must be it. 'Hey, Kyle?' he yelled out, 'buddy, is that you…?' He started to walk back through the room. 'You're not gonna believe what happened to me on the way up here.' Nobody answered, he wandered around and found a doorway leading out into a courtyard. It was peaceful out here: the shadows were deep and cool; jasmine bushes bloomed in fragrant clusters, wafting their perfume through the air, and a merry little water feature bubbled away making soothing sounds, like chirruping birdsong. Mr. Chase smiled to himself, oh yeah - he could make a ton of cash on this place.

He froze and stiffened up as he felt another presence behind him, this one was more substantial than the rustling shadow he had encountered before. 'Kyle?' he said, though his voice came out strangled, and he knew in his heart that this was not his corporate realtor.

'What are y' doin' here?' An unfamiliar, lilting voice asked. For all the musical quality of the accent, the voice was harsh and angry - and the words were slurred a little, as if perhaps the one who had spoken them was not quite sober. There was now the smell of whisky and stale cigarette smoke and unwashed clothes in the air, mingling with the scent of the jasmine bushes. Definitely not Kyle, then.

'Who said y' could come here?' the voice demanded. Mr. Chase turned to look. He could just about make out the figure of a smallish man, lurking in the shadows. He got flashes of colour from his shirt, and his tan jacket - but the man always kept his face hidden, deep within the darkness. 'You're not welcome here!'

It must just be some homeless guy, he realised. Of course - he was stupid to think that a place like this could lie abandoned for so long and not attract vagrants and runaways; down and outs looking for a place to crash. He shouldn't have come alone. He pulled himself up to his full height and bristled indignantly, 'now see here-' he started.

But the figure interrupted him. 'You got no right to be here. This is my home. What are you doing here?'

'I…' his voice trailed off as the hidden man raised a fist clenching a bottle, and lifted it to his lips. The sun shone on his hand … his skin was green. Mr. Chase's mouth went dry, like it had back with the coyotes.

The man must have felt him looking, because the hand was swiftly retracted into the black. 'Oh,' the figure said, angrily. 'So you came to stare at me did y'? Came up here to stare at ol' Doyle - the freak, the monster, the demon from hell?'

'I … no… no,' he took a step back, away from the man in the shadows, and nearly tripped over a loose rock. 'I didn't know…'

'Well - you can look your fill,' the man shuffled a half step towards the edge of the shadows, stumbling in his semi-inebriated state. ''Cause you're never leaving here, bud.'

'You can't keep me here! I have to get back…'

'You're not goin' back. I can't have you runnin' back to the town. Tellin 'em. About me. About what I am. You shouldn't have come here.'

'I won't tell anyone - I promise!'

'I know you won't.' He stepped out into the light and Mr. Chase just caught one horrified, fleeting impression of emerald green skin and devil red eyes, before a whisky bottle came swinging through the air and shattered across his head. Everything went black…


	3. Madame Xander - Can't You Just See It?

The quiet, stillness of the street was shattered by the roaring and revving… and then sputtering of an engine, and then Xander pulled up outside Cordelia's house in his Uncle Rory's 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air. Jesse was sitting in the passenger seat; a large bouquet of flowers lay strewn out on the leather of the back seat, the petals wilting slightly in the heat. 'I guess Cordelia's gonna be surprised to see you in this thing, huh?' Jesse said.

Xander nodded, reaching in the back to grab the flowers. 'Well, my Uncle Rory's got another DUI, so this sweet baby was just idling on his driveway. If this all goes to plan, we can hit the open road - have the best day ever… you're clear on your role in all this?'

'Sure, when that door opens and you two come out, I stick the tape in the player,' he held up a freshly bought copy of 'Wind Beneath my Wings', 'hit the play button and then get the hell out of here.'

'Right,' he took a deep breath, 'wish me luck.'

'Break a leg, man.'

'OK …' he took another deep breath. 'I'm ready.' A look of terror flitted across his face, 'oh god! Will you ask her out for me?'

But Jesse only gave him a pitying look. 'I'm here for you, dude, but _this_ you have to do alone.'

He took some more calming breaths. 'You're right, you're right. I just need to go up there and be a man.'

'Pretend like she's trying to rip you off over the price of comics - let the inner man just ... _come out_ … not in a gay way.'

The look of terror was back on Xander's face. 'I think I might barf.'

'Don't do it - not in the car, man - you can't take her for a romantic drive in a car that stinks of puke.'

Xander shook his head, raised his fist to his mouth and forced himself to swallow down the vomity feelings and then opened the car door. 'I'm going in.' He got out of the driver's seat, slammed the door shut and, checking his breath and smoothing his hair along the way, walked up to Cordelia's front door and rang the bell. The chimes echoed through the house and, after a moment, he gasped - remembered the bouquet clutched in his hand - and hid it behind his back.

...

Cordelia's brow was furrowed and her nose was wrinkled as she sucked the end of her pen and checked the working on her calculations. Having gone through her copy of Vogue, cover to cover, she had decided on everything that she _needed_ to have and was now totalling up the cost. If she could just hand her daddy a list of clothes and the overall cost, then he would just buy them for her without quibbling and the whole thing would be a _fait accomplis._ Though she had to get that price point just right, which might mean having to knock off a few of the smaller items from her list - though she was really hoping it didn't come to that. She _needed_ them all.

She looked up and frowned in annoyance when the chimes of the doorbell flew through the otherwise empty house and echoed off the walls. She put her pad and pen down on the coffee table and sighed deeply before getting up off the couch. The sigh only became deeper once she had peered through the spyhole and seen Xander's distorted mug grinning back at her.

'Xander - what the hell are you doing here?' She asked as soon as the door was open and before he had a chance to speak.

'Oh I - uh - can I come in?'

'No.'

But he stepped inside anyway and, tutting in irritation, Cordelia let the door swing shut behind him and then turned to glare at him, standing in her hallway with a dopey, hopeful grin on his face like the giant doofus he had always been. 'Well?' she arched one, questioning eyebrow.

'Oh,' he gasped and remembered the flowers again, bringing them round from his back, 'I got you these.' They both stared down at the roses clutched in his hand, as one of them drooped right over and hung upside down, limply. 'They're a little droopy,' he admitted, smiling nervously. 'Could do with some water.'

She took the bouquet. 'I'm doing this to save the flowers - not because I'm accepting a gift from _you_ ,' she told him, heading to the kitchen where she took a vase down from a cupboard and filled it with water. 'What do you want, Xander?'

'Well, it's a beautiful day and all and I got my Uncle Rory's car and I figured maybe you might wanna go for a drive some place - up the coast?'

'With you?'

'Well - uh - yeah.'

'Well - uh - _no_. Now get out!' She led him back down the hallway towards the front door. He trailed after her dispiritedly. 'Oh come on, Cordy. I've said I'm sorry. I just wanna make it up to you.'

'And if you were serious about making things up to me you'd leave me the hell alone, not go all Joe Stalker on me.' Her brown eyes were furious and her voice was just as angry. But her rage just reminded Xander of the good old days, this was how it had always been between them. Her anger and his fear was what turned him on. She stood with her back to the front door, he leaned his hand on it - trapping her in place. 'Don't you miss this?' he asked her, 'the fire, the passion, never knowing what's gonna happen. Everything was always such a surprise with you.' He leaned in closer.

'You want a surprise?' Unnoticed by Xander, her hand fumbled for the door handle. She twisted her face away, as he tried to kiss her, and opened the door. Xander stumbled forward, tripped over his feet and fell through the doorway, tumbling head over heels down the garden path. As he landed face smacked down on the tarmac, he heard the sound of the door slamming shut.

...

Sitting in the car, Jesse fumbled with the tape, when he saw the door open, and hit play. ' _Oh oh woah oh'_ Bette Middler began to sing. ' _It must have been cold there in my shadow…'_ Then he peered over the car door, in confusion, as Xander just lay there, his face smooshed into the driveway.

...

A moment later, the door opened again - very briefly - as the vase of flowers was chucked unceremoniously out of the house. It managed to hit Xander on the head, just as he sat back up, knocking him back down again. He groaned and rubbed his head, he was soaking wet, surrounded by shattered glass and strewn with limp and wilting roses.

Across the road, a neighbour stood out in his yard, holding a hosepipe, watering his grass - watching the whole thing with a look of bemusement on his face. Xander nodded at him, as he got to his feet, pretending nothing was wrong. The neighbour chuckled and turned back to his gardening. Xander rubbed his head again, still groaning.

'So - how'd it go?' Jesse asked him.

He just stared at his friend. 'Swell,' he said slowly, 'just … swell.'

**...**

When she heard the noise of a car driving off, Cordelia joined her cat at the windowsill and peered out from behind the curtains. 'Is he gone yet? Can you imagine? The nerve of that guy!' Her cat didn't answer, and just sat serenely on the ledge, licking its paws.

'As if it wasn't bad enough last time. Like I'd be crazy enough to go out again with that boorish, brainless…' She didn't know a word bad enough for what she wanted to call him, so she just snorted in disgust.

Her close encounter and her residual anger was making the blood thrum through her veins, so it felt like her whole person was vibrating. The adrenaline coursed through her and suddenly she was too on edge to sit back down and get back to her calculations. She grabbed her car keys and left the house, slamming the door behind her.

'Xander and me !' she ranted to herself as she got in the car, 'can't you just see it? Xander and me - out for a drive…' She snorted again, and shook her head furiously so her hair bounced around. Pressing down on the gas, she pulled out of the drive - not even looking where she was going, just wanting to be somewhere else. 'No sir! Not me! I guarantee it! I want much better than some dorky guy!'

She ran a stop sign without so much as a pause. Vaguely aware of a squeal of brakes and a blaring horn, she swung her car left, without looking … there was more blaring. Jeez, people were really mad on the road, today - but she didn't have time for their petty road rage. Some people were just 'me me me' all the time - all about themselves. Well, _she_ was still ranting about Xander. _She_ had legitimate pain.

'I just - I want adventure, you know?' she yelled at her empty passenger seat. 'In the great wide … _somewhere_. I wanna get out of Sunnydale and _not_ come back. And for once it might be good, if Xander just understood - that if he thinks I'm sticking with him, he's way off track.'

She reached the edge of town and hit the open road. Her anger was starting to ebb a little and was replaced instead by the hurt she still felt - whenever she thought about Xander. She had loved him, you know? And he had cheated. On _her_. And it was all very well and good to say he was 'sorry', but that didn't put things right. She just couldn't forgive being treated that way. Was this the way it was always gonna be? Were all guys just jerks who would cheat no matter what? It hurt - to be betrayed.

And then it made her mad again, that she was still hurt about Xander. He was of the past. She needed to move on. She _had_ moved on. She could not let someone so insignificant cause her pain. 'What a jackass,' she muttered darkly to herself, growing steadily more furious once again, as she drove through the hills - the pine trees throwing dark shadows over her as she passed by.

'I mean, who does he even think he is? Just waltzing up to my house and ...' She passed a silver Mercedes crashed into a tree, and twisted her neck back to look at it. 'Daddy?' As she looked back at the road, she saw the corner coming right towards her and only just had time to swing her steering wheel wildly to make sure she didn't come off. 'Oh - shoot!' She stopped the car, killed the engine and then ran back down the lane towards the crash.

It _was_ her dad's car - it had his 'King C' license plates. Her forehead creased with worry as she looked at the way the hood was all dented and crumpled. Inside, the airbag hung from the steering wheel, slowly deflating. One of the tyres was missing… but there was no sign of her dad anywhere.

Fortunately there was no blood either, and no signs of a struggle. The door hung wide open, looking like it had been opened from the inside - not pulled open by a rescue team, so presumably he survived the crash and got out of the car under his own steam … but then where did he go? Where _would_ he go? Surely if he had called for help and gone back to town he would have rung Cordy by now to let her know what was going on? But he just seemed to have vanished. 'Daddy?'

She pulled out her cell phone to see if she had missed a call or gotten a voicemail - but there was nothing. There was also no coverage up here, she noticed - the signal was blank. He couldn't have called for help even if he needed to, but surely he would just walk back into town - if nothing else, Cordy should have passed him on the road. None of this made any sense, where could he have gone?

As she stood by the car, wondering and worrying, a breeze picked up - stirring the branches of the trees. She glanced towards the slope beside her, distractedly. She heard a noise from beyond the treeline, the sound of the soil slipping, of pebbles rolling as if they were being crunched under foot. She squinted her eyes and peered into the undergrowth as far as she could, 'daddy?'

There was no reply, but she heard the crunch again. 'Daddy, is that you?' She took a few, cautious steps forward - towards the very edge of the tree line - and peered deeper into the woods. The ground was disturbed, here, there were track marks through the soil - as if someone had forced a pathway through. She couldn't think of any sane person reason her dad would go up the hill rather than down the road, but there didn't seem to be any other sign of him, so - reluctantly - she set off following the recent path.

'Daddy, are you in here? What are you doing?' The way was steep and the going was tough, and she stumbled and tripped her way up the hill - sometimes losing her footing and crashing down. The pine needles dug into her hands, she had soil under her nails, the knees of her pants were ruined - and she wasn't even daring to look at what had become of her shoes. 'I must be mental,' she panted, from between gritted teeth. 'There's no way he's…'

She trailed off as a flash of red caught her eye. Something long and thin was trapped, caught between the branches of a nearby tree and billowing in the breeze. She stumbled towards it and carefully loosened it from where it was stuck. Holding it in her hands, she stared down at it. It was a tie. ' _Daddy?'_ Worry was an emotion she had long since passed now and she was starting to get afraid. 'Why would he…' She looked upwards, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the crimson glow of the setting sun. It wasn't far to the top.

Holding the tie in her left hand, she struggled onward, more determined than ever to find out what was going on. Huffing and puffing, she finally made her way over the ridge - and that was when she saw the cold, white concrete blocks of the abandoned mansion looming over her. 'What is this place?' she whispered, not knowing why she suddenly felt the need to keep her voice low.

The iron gates creaked ominously, but a quick tug on them proved that they were not locked. Much as the empty house looked forbidding, unwelcoming, she had come this far and it seemed like the only place her father could possibly be. Maybe he had come up here for some shelter whilst he waited for the tow truck to come and get him … maybe.

'Daddy?' Once her footsteps had eaten up the path, there seemed like little choice but to push open the door - though the air around here felt cold, the breeze was chill and there was just an indefinable … _something_ that made her shudder, made her not want to go inside. But how else was she going to find her father? With a final glance over her shoulder, wishing there was some other way, she pulled the doors open and stepped over the threshold of the abandoned mansion.

**...**

Once inside, her feet slapped against the cold marble of the floor and the echoes of her footfalls reverberated off the walls and bounced back to her. She passed the fireplace, with the flames still crackling and dancing merrily away. A prickle on the back of her neck gave her the feeling of creeping unease that told her she was being watched, she glanced over her shoulder feeling eyes following her. And then there was the merest, briefest whisper of sound - voices murmuring so low she could barely hear them,

She came to a dead stop, 'hello?' she called out, her voice came out loud and strong but there was a waver in it, betraying her uneasiness. Everything went quiet and still - she stared around her, straining her eyes and ears. 'Is there someone there?' But there was no reply. Just more silence. More stillness.

And then the fire crackled and spat out a few burning embers, which scattered on the hearth and hissed. She jumped and let out a small yelp of alarm, before taking some deep breaths, when she realised what it was. Beginning to look annoyed, she started to walk deeper into the mansion. 'I'm looking for my father,' she called out, to anyone who might be out there to listen. 'Is there anybody here? Hello?'

As she walked down a hallway, a door creaked behind her - she whirled round to look at it and frowned when it just stood there, hanging ajar - as if nothing had happened. 'I could've sworn I heard something…' she headed back towards the door, and pushed it wide open. There was a staircase on the other side. It curved upwards and, not sure she was doing the right thing, she began to climb it - following it's curve right the way up to the top.

...

It was dark in the stairwell, the only light coming from tiny, narrow windows dotted in the wall. The darkness gave the impression that there was no end to the stairs, that they just went up and up, curving and spiralling right up to the sky. It was with no small amount of relief that she finally reached the top and stepped out onto a landing.

It was dark up here, as well - just one window right down the other end of the hall which let in the dying rays of the setting sun. She snapped on a light switch and the lights flickered on overhead. 'Daddy?' she called. She heard a moan. 'Daddy?'

'Cordelia!'

'Daddy!' she ran towards the sound of his voice. 'What are you doing here? What's going on…' She came to a stop. He was inside a room, the door was closed but it had a glass panel and she could see him clearly enough. He was lying face down on the floor. 'Daddy!' She tried the handle, but it was locked.

'How did you find me?' Mr. Chase groaned, trying to pull himself upright.

But she ignored the question, looking instead at how ill and weak he was. 'You need your insulin injection, we need to get you out of here.'

'Cordelia - I want you to leave this place.'

But she wasn't listening to him, 'who did this to you?' She tried the door again, putting all her weight on the handle.

'No time to explain. You must go … now!'

'I'm not leaving you!' She glanced around, looking for something with which she could smash the glass, when suddenly the lights snapped off again, plunging them into darkness. The only light now came from the window, one feeble ray shining down on the floor.

There was the sound of footsteps coming towards her. 'What are you doin' here?' a voice asked her.

'Run, Cordy!' her father cried, summoning all his strength to pull himself upright and urge her to flee. But she stayed exactly where she was, hand still on the doorknob, alert and aware. 'Who's there? Who are you?' she called out.

The footsteps came closer, 'the master of this place.'

She could just make out the shape of a figure - a man - though he skulked around the edges of the weak sunlight. She couldn't get a good look at him, his face was hidden deep within the shadows. 'I've come to get my dad. You've got to let him out - can't you see he's sick?'

'Then he shouldn't have come here - pokin' his nose in.'

' _What's your damage?'_ she asked in incredulous annoyance. 'He needs to get to a hospital. He's diabetic and he's overdue his shot - he might die!'

The figure shuffled his feet awkwardly and, when he spoke again, he sounded much more uncertain. 'I can't let him go - he's my prisoner.'

' _What_ is your childhood trauma? Are you a serial killer? Do little green men speak to you? This is _America_ \- you can't just hold people against their will. _We have rights!_ Now are you gonna let him go or are you gonna let him die?' She glared at the figure lurking in the dark.

The man seemed to hesitate. 'He can't leave. I can't let him leave … he saw my face.'

'What's wrong with your face?'

He ignored her, '... unless…'

'What - unless what? We're running out of time,' she looked back at her father, collapsed on the floor. He had gone very still.

'I'll let him go on one condition.'

'Name it.'

'You stay here with me. You're my hostage - my leverage to make sure he doesn't tell anyone what he saw.'

She let loose a string of fluent and colourful cuss words. 'You are one crazy, little man - you know that? I'm _nobody's_ leverage, buddy.'

'Hey you think I wanted this?' the man yelled at her, 'I just wanted to be left alone.'

'Well today's your lucky day, _Greta Garbo_ , let my dad free and we'll do exactly that.'

But the figure shook his head - she saw the movement in the darkness, even if she couldn't quite see his face. 'No, he'll tell. He'll tell people what he saw - and then they'll come here. You have to stay here, to keep him quiet.'

'I'm not staying with you!'

'Then he dies,' he turned and started to walk away down the landing. 'I've stuffed everythin' up enough as it is,' he muttered to himself, 'what's one more screw up?'

'No! Wait!' she called out to him and he turned back. She took a deep breath and then nodded. 'I'll stay, if you let him go. Just tell me … what's wrong with your face? Why are you hiding like that?' The man didn't answer and she peered into the shadows, to try and see what he was so plainly trying to hide. 'Come into the light,' she demanded.

He hesitated, for just a moment and then - gingerly - stepped forward, letting the feeble rays of the sun hit his monstrous face and reveal it to Cordelia. She drew back in disgust, staring wide eyed at his green skin, the blue prickles that marred it all over, and his fiery red eyes. 'Oh, gross! Yuck, _ew!_ '

He stepped hurriedly back into the darkness, hiding in the shadows once more. 'Forget it,' he muttered, turning away again.

'No, stop!' She looked at her father. 'I'll stay,' she told the man.

'You have to promise to stay with me forever. No running away, no trying to escape.'

She took a deep breath. 'I promise, OK? I promise just - don't let my dad die.'

'Done,' he barged roughly past Cordelia, knocking her to the floor, and unlocked the door to Mr. Chase's prison. He dragged the semi-conscious man out of the room and down the landing. Mr. Chase stirred, though he was now terribly weak. 'No - Cordelia - don't do this!' his words were slurred. 'Not for me!' But his captor paid him no mind and kept on dragging him towards the stairs.

'Daddy!'

'Cordelia!'

'Wait - please!' But then both men were gone - and she was left alone. She just stared, in disbelief, as the very last of the sun sank beneath the horizon, the final ray of light dwindled away into nothing and then all was dark.

**...**

The man dragged Mr. Chase down the stairs, gripping him under his arms and heaving his dead weight along. 'Call this man a cab,' he yelled into the shadows - at the quiet presence that seemed to lurk there. 'Tell it to collect him and take him to the hospital.' Then he hauled the now unconscious man out onto the side of the road and dumped him there - before heading back inside the mansion, back to his new prisoner.


	4. Be Our Guest

'Mr. Doyle? Master?'

The green skinned man had been slouching his way through the hall, his hands buried in his pockets and his head hanging low, but he came to a stop when he was spoken to from out of the shadows. 'What? What is it?'

A figure emerged, insubstantial as mist; transparent and wispy, like smoke, but with the same red eyes as Doyle. It cleared its throat, apologetically - a little nervous, 'since it seems like maybe the girl will be with us for some time … I was thinking, maybe you should offer her a more comfortable room.'

Doyle just glared at the figure, until it backed down and backed away, its insubstantial shoulders hunched, 'then again - maybe not.'

With an irritated shake of his monstrous head, Doyle carried on trudging through the mansion, but the servant's words had got through to him and - with another, disbelieving shake of his head and a deep sigh - he climbed the stairs up to the landing where he had left Cordelia.

...

She was still just sitting on the floor, in a heap, where he had knocked her down - her face had been blank, shell shocked, but when she saw her captor coming back her features grew hard, her expression enraged. 'I ought to call the cops on your ass,' she said to him. 'You just dragged my dad off like that - you didn't even let me say goodbye. I'm never gonna see him again, and you didn't even let me say goodbye.'

'I - uh,' he came to a stop, still several paces away from her and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. 'I'm sorry, I guess.'

'You _guess_?'

'Look - I didn't want it to go down this way … come on, I'll show you to your room.'

'My room?' she glanced around her in surprise, her eyes darting towards the dank little room her father had been kept in, 'but I thought…'

'You wanna stay in the tower?'

'No.'

'Then come with me.'

She scrambled to her feet and he led her back down the curving staircase towards the main hall. It was pitch black in the stairwell, now the last of the sun was gone, and Cordelia had to tread very carefully to keep herself from losing her footing and tumbling down the stairs. 'Jeez - why don't you flip a lightswitch around this place?' she grumbled.

'I don't ever put the lights on,' Doyle told her, without glancing back - and it seemed he was telling the truth because he was sure footed even in the darkness. 'I prefer to be in the dark.'

'Oh - because you're so hideously ugly?'

He didn't answer, and instead just led her through the hallway, under the chandelier and past the fire place and up to another - much grander - staircase. He caught her looking around curiously, as they climbed - peering into the shadows to try and make out everything she could in the gloom. He should say something else to her, he thought - and racked his brain for something, anything, else to say. 'Look,' he began, rubbing the back of his neck, nervously - it seemed liked an awkward habit he had whenever things got uncomfortable. 'The mansion is your home now - and I hope you're happy here - so, you know, you can go wherever you want … except for the west wing.'

'What's in the west wi…'

'Just don't go in there, OK? It's off limits.'

She looked put out. ' _Fine_ \- keep your little man cave, I didn't wanna go in it anyway.'

'Look - I don't wanna argue.'

'Well, I don't wanna be here.'

'I know,' he nodded, 'but you think it's easy lookin' like this?' He gestured towards his face. 'I know what I look like … I'm a monster. And if people find out I'm here, well … y'know those old movies where the mob o' angry villagers storm the castle with pitchforks and flamin' torches? I don't really fancy bein' lynched just for bein' ugly, y' know? I gotta stay hidden, which means people who see me can't be allowed to tell anyone.' He sighed - suddenly sounding very frustrated, 'you know, I never asked for any o' this - none o' this is my fault.'

Cordelia snorted, 'that's funny, 'cause it sure seems like it is.'

Doyle came to a stop outside a door and, instead of answering, opened it up. 'This is yours,' he said nodding at it. 'I hope you're comfy here. If you need anythin' - I got servants...'

Cordelia's furious and sullen expression lifted, for just a moment, as she looked impressed - against her will. But then she got a hold of herself and rearranged her features back to angry.

'They'll take care o' you,' Doyle was saying, apparently oblivious to her momentary change in mood, 'anythin' you want - just ask, well…' He shuffled his feet and rubbed the back of his neck, his skin flushed. 'Dinner's at nine - I guess I'll see you then.' And he sloped off down the hallway, hands buried in his pockets, shoulders hunched, leaving Cordelia all alone once more.

**...**

Xander sat slumped on the sofa, in the Bronze, his arms were folded across his chest and there was a glower on his face. He only grunted, as Jesse came and sat beside him and proffered a drink in his direction. 'You still mad?' Jesse asked.

'She made a fool of me.'

'Well - to be fair - I think you made a fool of yourself, man. I told you to back off.'

But Xander was still bitter, 'disgraced, rejected - I mean, there's only so much public humiliation a man can take, you know?'

'You seem to be able to take a lot of it,' he stopped trying to hand Xander the drink and decided to claim it for himself.

'I am done being this town's butt monkey.'

'Check,' he took a sip from Xander's drink and then one from his own, 'no more butt monkey.'

'I mean look at them,' he nodded over to where Oz and Willow were slow dancing to the band. 'Willow was just as guilty as me, how come she gets forgiven?'

'I mean … I wanna say it's up to Cordelia whether she forgives you or not. Oz didn't give up his place in the school hierarchy to start dating Willow. Cordy lost all her friends to be with you, and then you ditched her.'

'I didn't ditch her!'

But Jesse rolled his eyes, 'move on! Come on - it's disturbing to see you like this, you know - all down in the dumps.'

'Yeah well, get used to it - I've had it up to here with taking my lumps,' he gestured above his head with his hand. 'No more butt monkey.'

'No more butt monkey,' Jesse repeated, raising one of his drinks in a toast to Xander.

'This town's gonna start showing me some respect.'

'Right!'

Xander suddenly looked unsure, '... how?'

'Well - You gotta find your place. How you fit into this town. I guess we just gotta figure out what your thing is. What do you do that no one else can do quite like you?'

'I did drink a gallon of gatorade in under a minute one time … and I used to play the flugelhorn. And I don't like to brag but … I'm kinda funny. It's kind of adorable.'

Jesse nodded. 'Well there you go: no one drinks quite like you, no one thinks quite like you - and, after that unfortunate stint on the swim team, I think it's fair to say you proved that no one sinks quite like you.'

'But, as a specimen, you know - I was pretty intimidating in my speedos.''

'You were ten out of ten, man,'

'It's all the eggs I eat. Protein. I'm about the size of a barge.'

Jesse took another sip from both his drinks. 'So… You just need to go down to the local pool, pick up some hottie by flexing your manly boob muscles or whatever and then take her back to yours and show her your comic book collection. You got some pretty cool stuff.'

'I do use action figures in all of my decorating,' Xander said, modestly. Then he sighed. 'But I don't want some girl, I want Cordy. My Cordy. I want her back.'

The band started up a new song, this one even more mellow than the last. Over on the dance floor, Willow and Oz began to kiss. Xander watched them for a moment, 'I mean, this is a public forum, people,' he said disgustedly.

'You're just jealous,' Jesse told him.

'With good reason! Come on - let's get out of here.' He heaved himself up off the sofa. Jesse struggled to drain both drinks, and then followed him out.

**...**

Cordelia was sitting on the bed, her knees pulled up under her chin and her arms wrapped around them. Her eyes kept darting around the confines of her prison. Not that it was a bad room. On the contrary, it was rather large and impressive - larger even than her room at home. The bed was a four poster, there was expensive looking artwork on the walls, the furniture was tastefully art deco, the drapes were velvet and luxurious. All in all, it would be a pretty sweet pad - if she wasn't trapped here.

But trapped here she was. She'd already peered out the window, down to the ground, to see if she could use the curtains or bed sheets as a makeshift rope ladder - but it was too far down. And she'd probably be discovered before she reached the bottom, even if she didn't break something important when jumping the last several feet to the ground. So this was it, she was stuck - with no conceivable way of escape that she could see…

Her angry musings were cut short by a smart rapping on the door. 'What do you want?' she yelled, assuming it would be the green faced monster who had imprisoned her here. But the voice who replied was female - high and sweet. 'I brought you a cup of tea.'

This must be one of the servants, then. 'Come in,' Cordelia called, her voice less angry now.

The door opened and a wispy insubstantial figure walked in, bearing a hot cup of tea - as promised. Cordelia stared at the figure, she looked like she was made of smoke, but her eyes were the same red as that stupid little monster. 'What _are_ you?' She asked - taking her cup of tea without thanking the figure, forgetting her manners in her surprise at seeing something so otherworldly - more otherworldly even than the monster. Not that Cordelia often remembered her manners…

'I'm a prisoner,' the figure said, in her surprisingly sweet voice. 'Just like you.'

'Did the green man hold you hostage too?' she asked suspiciously.

But the figure shook her head, 'no - the Master, 'Doyle' was his human name - he's just the latest of the beasts. We serve them all - and one day, probably, he'll join us - when the next beast is made.'

'I don't understand…?' She wrinkled her brow and shook her head.

'There's an enchantress - a fairy who travels the world testing people, if you fail her test she puts a curse on you.'

'I mean … that doesn't seem very fair,' Cordelia said.

But the figure only shrugged. 'Once you're cursed, you have a year to break the spell … if you fail, then you become one of us, the servants, the shadow people. We serve the beast until his or her time is over, then we serve the next one, on and on forever.'

'Until you die?'

'I've been doing this for nearly 400 years,' the figure said.

Cordelia looked astounded, 'that's impossible!'

'Should be - and yet here I am. Waiting for the spell to be broken.'

'If the green guy - Doyle? - breaks the spell, are you free?'

'So I'm told.'

'And how does he break the spell?' She had forgotten to take even a sip of her tea, she was so absorbed in hearing this fantastical tale. She had thought that guy was just some hideous, genetic freak, a mutant - but this smoky lady with the red eyes seemed to be telling her that magic was real and that was …well, it was unsettling if nothing else. It just didn't seem possible. And it didn't seem possible that magic would have found her, Cordelia. She was just … ordinary.

'It's different for all of us, depending on what our test was,' the woman said. 'The master - my current master - has to do something selfless, commit an act of true bravery for the good of another. And then the spell will be broken and we'll all be free.'

'Will he do it?'

The woman actually laughed. 'Mostly he just drinks all day.'

Cordelia frowned, 'and are you the only one here? I mean, apart from him? Are you the only servant?'

'No - there are a few of us.'

'What's your name?'

'Darla - I'm glad you're here, Cordelia.'

That made Cordy frown even deeper, 'why?'

'Because it was a very brave and selfless thing you did, agreeing to stay here. The master could learn a lot from you.'

'It was a stupid thing,' she shook her head, bitterly. 'I've lost everything - my dreams, my hopes - I'm supposed to go to college in the fall. I got into Columbia! I was going to New York City. Now I'll never leave this house.'

Darla's ghostly face creased into a sympathetic smile. 'Things might turn out different than you think. Anyway…' she shook her head, 'listen to me, talking like I haven't got other things to be doing. Supper won't put itself on the table. Aud, here will help get you ready.'

She gestured over to a corner of the room, Cordelia's eyes followed the direction she was pointing in - and then widened in surprise when another insubstantial, smoky woman seemed to materialise from the walls. 'How long have you been there?'

'The whole time.'

'Aud will be your personal maid - I'll leave you to it,' and then Darla left the room.

Cordelia stared at Aud. She seemed more grumpy and less friendly than Darla. 'So … how long have you been all … wispy?'

'A thousand years.'

'A _thousand?_ '

'Well, more like eleven hundred. I cursed my boyfriend - turned him into a troll. The enchantress said I needed to learn to be more forgiving in nature. Give up on my lust for vengeance ...so here I am.'

'Why did you curse your boyfriend? What did he do?'

'A bar matron. A load bearing bar matron… So, we should probably get you ready for dinner. You can't go down in those ruined pants. Let's see what we've got in these drawers…' she crossed the room and pulled a drawer open. A swarm of moths fluttered out and flew straight to the light bulb, beating their wings against it. 'That's embarrassing. I guess it's been a while… anyway, how about this one?' She pulled a pink dress out and held it up, scrutinising it, 'I think you'll look good in this.'

'Thanks - it's lovely…' it was, '...but, I'm not going to dinner.'

'You've got to!'

'Really don't.'

'But the master said…'

There was another knock on the door and a third shadowy figure, this one a man, entered, clearing his throat. 'Ahem ahem ahem … dinner is served.'

**...**

Doyle sat at the head of the table, though he was sitting sideways in his seat and his elbow was propped up on the table. He held a bottle of scotch in his other hand and was taking liberal swigs from it. The room was in darkness, save for the crackling of the fire - which made the heat almost unbearable but meant that he could still hide his monstrous face in the gloom. It was nine fifteen already, he took another swig. 'Well, where is she?' he demanded of the two shadowy servants in the room with him, 'what's takin' her so long?'

'Try to be patient, sir,' Darla said to him, 'she's lost her father and her freedom all in one day.'

'Uh - master,' the other servant said, hesitantly, 'have you thought that now this girl is here, maybe she could help us break the spell?'

Doyle took another long drink from the bottle, 'of course I have, what? Y' think I'm an idiot?'

The two servants glanced at each other, '...no, still - you get to know her, she gets to know you, you commit some great, shining sacrifice for her - an act of true selflessness - and poof! We'll all be human again by midnight.'

But Darla shook her head, 'it's not as simple as that, William, these things take time - we should know.'

'But the rose has already begun to wilt!'

'It's no use anyway,' Doyle shrugged and took another hearty swig of his scotch, his words were beginning to slur. 'She's not gonna wanna get to know me. She's … she's a little bit mean.'

'Well, you did take her prisoner.'

'She called me hideously ugly!'

The two servants exchanged another glance. 'Well - you must help her to see past all that,' Darla told him gently.

But he only snorted, sputtering out some scotch through his nose. 'How?'

Her red eyes became harder, as she looked at him slumped in his chair - all slovenly and drunk. 'Well, you can start by making yourself more presentable. Straighten up, try to act like a gentleman - not a drunken boor with no self respect.'

William began to nod, eagerly, 'yes, yes - when she comes in - be dashing, be debonair…'

'But don't come off as sleazy,' Darla interrupted, 'girls hate that.'

'Recite poetry to her.'

'But don't freak her out.'

'Shower her with compliments - tell her her eyes gleam like …' he turned to Darla with a frown, 'what's a word that rhymes with "gleam"?'

'Dream.' She looked back at Doyle, 'don't over do it. Be sincere.'

Doyle was starting to look overwhelmed - as he tried to follow all the differing advice his servants gave him.

'And above all,' William said to him… ' **You must control your drinking!'** both of them yelled at him.

He plonked his bottle of scotch down on the table and buried his spiky head in both hands, groaning. 'I can't do this, man,' he mumbled.

Just then, the door handle to the dining room began to twitch. 'Here she is!' William said. The air thickened with anticipation. Immediately, Doyle pulled himself up straighter and tried to focus his eyes - not wanting to betray how drunk he already was.

But when the door opened, it was only to reveal another of the insubstantial servants. They all stared at the newcomer expectantly. 'Well,' Doyle slurred, 'where is she?'

'Who? Oh - yeah - the girl, right. The girl … well … uh … she's in the … process of circumstances being what they are - uh - um - she's not coming.'

' _What?'_ the scotch bottle was grabbed and hurled across the room, smashing against the wall just above the servant's head and cascading down in a shower of broken glass and amber liquid. The servant ducked.

Doyle struggled to his feet and stumbled out of the room, as quickly as his loss of balance and spinning head would allow him. He tripped and fell his way up the stairs, his servants scurrying after him, and when he found himself outside Cordelia's door, he leaned on it for some balance before banging on it. 'I thought I told you … you were supposed to …' his head was fuzzy and swimming from the scotch, 'it's time to eat!'

'I'm not hungry!' Cordelia's furious voice called back from beyond the barrier of the closed door.

'Well - you gotta come out or … or … I'll break down the door.'

'You're too drunk for that,' Darla said drily.

'I can do it,' he said, resentfully, '- 's my door!'

'It might not be the best way to start getting to know the girl,' William told him, 'remember what I said about the poetry?'

'But she's bein' so … _difficult!_ '

'Gently,' Darla said to him, her voice soft but brooking no argument. 'Gently.'

He leaned against the door and lowered his voice to a mumble. 'It would give me great pleasure if you would join me for dinner.'

'Say please,' William said.

'Please,' Doyle slurred.

'No thank you!' Cordelia yelled back. Doyle stood up straight and pointed at the door, an injured expression in his face. He was right! he silently told his servants, she was being unreasonable. She was mean … and a little bit scary. 'You can't stay in there forever,' he shouted through to her.

'Oh yes I can!'

'Fine then - if that's how you wanna play it. Stay in there and starve.' He slammed the palm of his hand against the door, one final time in frustration, and then looked back at his servants, defeated. 'I guess she's not gonna come outta there as long as I'm around.' He started to stump away up the landing, 'let me know if she makes a move,' he called back over his shoulder.

'William, you stay here and guard the door,' the other servant said to him, 'inform me at once if there is the slightest change.'

William mock saluted, 'aye aye, sir.'

Then Darla and the other servant headed back towards the stairs, making their way to the kitchens, 'might as well go downstairs and start cleaning up.'

**...**

Doyle stumbled his way through his lair in the west wing, kicking over furniture and then swearing copiously when he hurt his toes. 'I mean - I asked her nicely!' he proclaimed to the room at large, 'didn't I ask her nicely? But she still says "no" - what's that about? What does she want from me? None of this is my fault!' He kicked a large wardrobe, in his frustration, and then hopped away cussing out his stinging toes.

He picked up the magic mirror and looked into it - his green skin and red eyes reflected back at him, it was the only mirror up here that he hadn't smashed. 'Show me the girl,' he demanded. There was a green crackle of magic and then his face was replaced by the image of Cordelia, sitting on her bed, her arms folded across her chest and her brow furrowed in anger. She was talking to the servant, Aud.

...

'You know he's really not that bad if you just … take some time, get to know him. Drunk, sure - and OK he doesn't wash as often as he should, but the master isn't actually a bad person.'

Cordelia snorted, 'oh right, the stinky, drunk, green guy who took me prisoner isn't all that bad. I'm sure he's just all fluff and cuddles on the inside.'

'Well … if you just get to know him…'

'I don't wanna get to know him! I don't want anything to do with him!'

...

Doyle had heard enough, he put the mirror back down, shaking his head. 'It's hopeless,' he muttered, 'I was just foolin' myself to think .. she'll never see me as anythin' but a monster.'

Beside him, the enchanted rose shed another petal - which dropped silently down to the table top, joining all the others which already lay there.

**...**

'Oh no!' squealed one of the shadowy figures.

'Oh yes,' William said to her.

'Oh no!'

''Oh yes, yes, yes!' he'd taken his eyes off the ball - the door to Cordelia's room - in order to romance his dark goddess, his black beauty … he swept her into a passionate kiss, dipping her low. And that was when Cordelia creaked her bedroom door open and crept out, sneaking down the landing.

Coming up for breath, William just caught sight of her retreating back, disappearing from view - he let go of his partner, and she fell to the floor with a yelp. 'Oh … _bugger!_ She's emerged.' He chased after her.

...

Down in the kitchen, Darla and the other servant were clearing away - tidying everything up for the night and readying for the morning. 'Well, if you ask me she was just being stubborn,' the man said. 'He did say "please".'

'Huh - a man that begs, that's attractive. You know, until he gets a hold of himself and stops all that maudlin self pity and drinking, he's never gonna break the spell.'

The door opened and Cordelia peered round, 'am I OK to come in here?'

The man threw his dishcloth to the side and opened the door up, ushering her inside. 'Yeah, come on in - it's great to see you out and about. I'm Liam, I'm the head of the household...'

William came rushing in and shoved Liam out of the way. Liam snorted and rolled his eyes. 'This is William,' he said impatiently.

'My heart expands, it has grown a bulge in't,' William said to Cordelia, seizing her hand and bowing low, bringing it up to his lips to kiss. 'Inspired by your beauty … _effulgent_.'

Liam snorted again, 'he's a bloody idiot.'

'And a godawful poet,' Darla added.

William looked put out, but was then distracted by the arrival of the shadowy woman he had been kissing, 'Drusilla…'

'Is this the girl?' Drusilla asked in a dreamy, singsong voice. She walked up to Cordelia and stared at her, her red eyes glowing. 'She feels like sunshine - and daisies. I knew you were coming,' she said to Cordy, 'the moon whispered it to me.'

Cordelia looked unnerved, and glanced back at the others, 'is she OK?'

'Ah - that's just our Drusilla. She's a wee bit brain addled,' Liam told her.

'She's a stark raving lunatic,' Darla said.

'But she's the one,' Drusilla had closed her eyes and was weaving her head from side to side, like she was in a trance, 'the one who's come to break the spell.' An awkward silence descended on the kitchen.

Liam cleared his throat, 'so, can we get you anything?'

'Well - I am a little hungry,' Cordelia admitted.

William bowed low again with a great dramatic flourish, he held his arm out to her and began to escort her towards the dining room. 'I don't need anything fancy,' she tried to tell him, 'just some grilled cheese would be fine.'

But he wasn't listening, he pulled out her chair for her, 'nonsense pet, we've got our standards, you know? It is with deepest pride and greatest pleasure that we welcome you tonight. So just relax, pull up a chair - tie your napkin round your neck - and we'll do the rest.'

The door to the kitchen opened and Darla and Liam bustled in laden with great trays of appetisers that they placed on the table in front of Cordy. 'Soup de jour, hot hors d'oeuvres,' William told her.

She wrinkled her nose and poked at something, 'what's this grey stuff?'

'Oh you should try it, it's delicious.'

She stuck her finger and licked it, suspiciously - but then nodded, it was delicious. She picked up her spoon and started eating her soup, whilst Darla and Liam rushed around presenting more and more dishes for her to choose from. 'Beef ragout? Cheese souffle?'

Cordelia, with a mouth full of soup nodded her head and pointed at the souffle, 'does the green man eat like this every night?' she asked.

'Every night,' William told her, 'we prepare and serve with flair a _culinary cabaret_.'

Liam snorted, as he poured Cordelia a glass of wine, 'stop with the poetry, now, William. No one's impressed.'

'Says you, you great ponce. She's alone and she's scared, I'm just trying to make her feel better- be a little bit entertaining.'

'Well why don't you tell some jokes, or do some tricks now?'

'Oh rack off!'

Cordelia started between the two of them, her soup spoon raised halfway to her mouth. 'Guys, there's no need to get snippy - not on my account.'

But Darla shook her head at her. 'The boys are always fighting,' she said wearily. 'Anyway - with dessert you'll want tea…' she headed back towards the kitchen.

Cordelia, finished with her soup, put down her spoon and reached for the souffle. 'So … dessert? There's another course, after this course? There's another one?'

'Yes of course,' William glowered at Liam and then turned back to Cordy with a smile, 'we just keep on feeding until you're done.'

She put her fork down, 'I think I'm done.'

'Oh…' both men's shadowy faces looked suddenly disappointed. Cordelia looked surprised. 'What?'

'No - no, it's nothing…' Liam told her, 'it's just - you know it's not every day we get a chance to do something. Most days we just sit around the mansion...'

'Flabby, fat and lazy,' William added, 'at least Liam is.'

Liam scowled at him, '… but then you walked in and… well,' he shrugged. ' I guess it doesn't matter. I'm guessing you'll want to go to sleep now.'

'Oh, I don't know about that,' she pushed her chair back and took a deep, overfull sigh. 'I've never spent the night in a mansion before, let alone an enchanted one. I think I might quite like to look around.'

'I'm not sure that the master…' Neither men looked like they thought this was a good idea.

But Cordelia was not going to take no for an answer. If she was going to be stuck here, then she was going to do exactly as she pleased until the little green monster let her go. 'Oh come on! He said I could go wherever I wanted. You could show me. Please?' She batted her eyelids and gave her sweetest smile. 'Give me the grand tour?'


	5. I Wonder Why I Didn't See It There Before

Cordelia trailed behind Liam and William as they showed her around the mansion. She was enjoying looking around, her mouth was slightly open as she stared at all the unbelievably expensive pieces of furniture, and the high ceilings and the skylights - but Liam's droning monologue about all the finer details left something to be desired. 'It was built in the early 1920s by the architect Frank Lloyd Wright - one of four 'block houses' he designed based on the structures of Ancient Mayan temples,' Liam was saying. 'Note the horizontal loggia spine which connects the private and the public rooms.'

Cordelia peered in the general direction he was waving, but shook her head. 'I don't know what a loggia is but … thanks for telling me.'

'You're quite boring,' William said to his fellow servant. 'Anyone ever tell you that, mate?'

But Liam ignored him. 'Note the art deco influences on the ceiling mouldings, the fireplaces and some of the original furniture. Of course - in the 1930s when it fell more out of style the then owner brought in some neo-baroque pieces, including the mosaics out in the garden, they're not to everybody's tastes but as I always say - if it's not baroque, don't fix it…' He chuckled appreciatively at his own joke. William gave him a dark look, evident even on his shadowy face. Cordelia didn't get it - so she didn't say anything.

Instead, she wandered away from her tour guides and pulled open a door, revealing another staircase leading up to another part of the house. 'What's up here?' she asked, setting her foot on the first step.

Immediately, both servants were at her side. 'Up here? Nothing,' Liam said, 'absolutely nothing of interest in the west wing - just dusty and dull and dark, bad for allergies. Let's look at something else.'

But Cordelia was still peering upward, 'so - _that's_ the west wing.'

William gave his fellow servant yet another dark look. 'Nice going, mate.'

She looked at them both, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. 'Come on then, guys, spill - what's he hiding up there?'

'The master's not hiding anything,' William assured her.

'Then it wouldn't be off limits.' She climbed up another step.

Both of the shadowy men leapt after her. 'Perhaps you'd like to see something else,' Liam suggested to her, 'we've got tapestries…'

She rolled her eyes, 'gee, maybe later.'

'Or - or the gardens,' William said, 'or the library…' but she still didn't seem interested. 'Or maybe some of the Hollywood memorabilia? An old movie star from the 20s used to live here, she left behind all kinds of interesting old Hollywood stuff, props and posters and her wardrobe…'

Cordelia came to a stop, halfway up the stairs and turned back to them. 'Her wardrobe?' she asked.

They both nodded desperately. 'Costumes from films, dresses from awards shows, designer, couture - every kind of dress you can possibly imagine.'

'From every designer of the era you can think of,' Liam said, 'Chanel, Westwood, Hartnell…'

She took a few steps down, back towards them and, encouraged, they began to walk away to show her. 'There's hundreds of dresses, oodles of them.'

'Swamps of them.'

'Cascades of them.'

'More dresses than you could possibly ever wear in a single lifetime.'

'Dresses in every cut, length and design you can imagine…' They weren't even paying attention to her now, as they gleefully listed all the dresses that the mansion held but … as interesting as all that sounded, the west wing was calling to her. She had the rest of her life to look at these dresses, she might not get another chance to sneak up here and see what the green-faced monster was being so secretive about.

As William and Liam's voices trailed off into the distance, oblivious to having lost her, she bolted back up the stairs.

**...**

It was dark up in the west wing - obviously, Mr. "I have to hide my hideous face" wasn't switching on any lights in his own private sanctum. Apparently the person he wanted to hide from most of all was himself, and that became even more obvious when she passed a large mirror hanging on the wall, which had been smashed into pieces. Her own fragmented reflection stared back at her, its eyes as serious and worried as her own.

She pulled the door open and went inside the room. Liam hadn't been lying, it was dusty in here - and cobwebby. She shivered. The furniture was tossed around the room, knocked over - looking like it had been kicked there. There were cigarette butts ground down on the floor and more empty bottles than she could count and more smashed mirrors. She found a photograph that had been ripped in half. When she put it back together it showed her a man, OK looking - nothing to write home about. But he had the most beautiful green eyes she had ever seen. He looked like a nice man, kind and warm.

Then something else caught her attention and she dropped the photo, forgetting about it instantly. It was a rose, one shining, gleaming sign of life in this otherwise dusty, dirty and gloom ridden attic. It was pale pink and beautiful and - what really caught her attention - it seemed to hover in the air. Like it was standing in a vase, except there was no vase. Instead it was trapped under a bell jar.

She felt inexplicably drawn to it. Crossing the room she stood beside it, hesitating for only a moment, before she lifted up the bell jar and put it to one side, leaving the rose unprotected. She didn't know why she did that. She didn't know why she suddenly wanted to touch the petals either, but nevertheless her hand reached out, unbidden, her fingers outstretched. She was mesmerised by the flower, the tips of her fingers the barest fraction of an inch away from the silky pink of the petals… when she was suddenly roughly and rudely barged out of the way.

Doyle was there - he must have been out on the balcony, having a cigarette from the smell of the smoke, but now he was here - breathing like he had just run a marathon and the look on his face was … murderous. He grabbed the bell jar and snapped it back over the rose, holding onto the glass protectively, as if trying to shield its contents from Cordelia. 'What are y' doin' here?' he yelled at her.

He was even angrier than he had been when he had first found her in the mansion. His grotesque face was twisted with rage. 'Why did y' come here?'

She backed away, frightened by his anger - he had always seemed more pathetic than anything else, before now. This sudden and intense anger was a change for the worse, and an unwelcome surprise. 'I - I'm sorry.'

'I told y' never to come here.' He was still breathing hard, still shouting too loud.

'I didn't mean any harm.'

' _Do you have any idea what you might have done?'_

'I - I…'

'Get out!' he picked up an empty bottle and hurled it at the wall. It smashed and its broken pieces fell to the floor, scattering. Cordelia yelped. 'Get out!' Doyle yelled at her again, reaching for another bottle. She turned and fled - hearing the sound of more bottles being thrown and smashed as she ran back down the stairs.

Doyle reached for another bottle - but there were none left to hand and, suddenly realising he was alone, his anger evaporated and he was left with nothing but the empty feeling of shame at having frightened the poor girl, who really hadn't meant him any harm.

...

Cordelia ran down the steps and fled back out into the main hall - where William and Liam were standing, looking worried. She grabbed her jacket and ran for the door. 'Oy - Where are you going?' William called after her.

'Promise or no promise, I can't stay here another minute,' she called over her shoulder - not even stopping to look back. And then she was through the front door and it slammed shut behind her. The sudden draught caused the last of the fire to flicker and die - and then the two servants were left alone, in the darkness, wondering how it had all gone so wrong.

**...**

The boys left the club to find a crowd had gathered, out in the street. There was some kind of disturbance - people standing around in groups watching the commotion. The two of them pushed their way to the front to see what everyone was looking at. 'Hey, Larry - what's going on?' Xander asked the football player, who was standing in the crowd.

'Some old guy just flipped his nut and started freaking out,' Larry nodded at the 'old guy' in question. The man was dishevelled, his eyes were mad and staring and he was ranting and raving about … something. Jesse frowned. 'Hey, Xander, dude, Isn't that Cordelia's old man?'

He was right. It was. He had now grabbed someone by the lapels and was shaking them. Some of the crowd was laughing, others were talking about calling the police. Xander realised he had to do something. He stepped forward, his mouth went dry and he licked his lips to try and give them some moisture. 'Um - Mr. Chase?' he said, 'it's me, Xander - do you know me?'

'Xander?' Mr. Chase stopped throttling the guy, but still clung to his lapels and turned his head to look at the boy.

'Yeah - that's right - now what say we let this nice gentleman go and you and me can talk about what's wrong?' He smiled encouragingly.

'Xander!' He dropped the man and grabbed hold of Xander instead. 'You have to help me. He's got her. He's got her locked in a dungeon.'

'Uh - who?'

'Cordelia! We have to go now - not a moment to lose.'

'Wait wait wait - let's take a time out,' He took hold of Mr. Chase's arms and looked directly into his face, trying to see some kind of sense there. 'Who's got Cordelia locked in a dungeon?'

'A beast! Cried Mr. Chase. 'A horrible, monstrous beast!' The crowd went silent … and then burst out laughing. Xander looked awkward.

'Is it a big beast?' Larry asked.

'No - he's kind of on the small side.'

'Does he have a long, ugly snout?'

'He's got these prickles … he's hideously ugly.'

'Sharp and cruel fangs?'

'I didn't get a good look at his teeth - but he's got these red eyes.' The whole crowd laughed again and Mr. Chase stared around at them, seeming to deflate under their mockery. 'Will nobody help me?'

'We'll help you,' Xander promised him. He turned to look at Jesse, 'we need to get him back home. Back to Cordy - make him a hot drink, maybe put something in it to take the edge off...'

But that wasn't the type of help Mr. Chase was looking for. 'No!' he cried and ripped himself free from Xander's hold. Then he ran off down the street. The crowd laughed some more and began to disperse. Xander was left alone in the road, staring in the direction his ex girlfriend's father had disappeared in. 'Jesse, I'm afraid I've been thinking.'

'A dangerous pastime.'

'I know - but Cordy really loves her father, and right now his sanity's only so so. And I can't help thinking - looking at the crazy old man. I wanted to get back with Cordy, right? Well right now, I think I'm having a plan.'

**...**

It was pitch black, out on the road - except for the light of the full moon, staring balefully down on her - and that didn't do a whole lot to light her path. But she was undeterred, she dug into her pocket for her car keys and began to run. She'd left by the front door so it was just a case of following the road around until she got back to her car. And then she would get in it, drive like hell back to Sunnydale and never come back to this place ever again.

Or that was the plan - until a dark shape suddenly slunk out into the road in front of her. She couldn't see it very well, but she could smell it - and hear the pant of its hot breath - and she didn't try to fool herself that it was some friendly doggy out for a moonlit walk. Cordelia froze, unsure what to do. The shape was joined by another - and another, and the sound of padded footsteps behind her told her she was surrounded on all sides … except for the forest. Then the howling started, the yipping and barking which told her what she feared was true - this was a wild pack of coyotes.

The howling stopped - and then one of them leaped towards her. She unfroze and bolted into the tree line, the only route of escape - running back up the hill. She had an irritating feeling that she was headed back in the direction of the mansion, but she couldn't afford to be choosy …. Even if it did feel like those damn dogs were driving her right back there, she needed to go the way she would be safe.

She crashed through the trees, slipping and sliding on the soil. Stumbling and falling and picking herself up and running again - the coyotes were only ever a few steps behind her, yipping at her heels. She blundered through the underbrush and the shrubs, ducking the branches of the larger pine trees- then she broke out into a clearing … but in the dark did not see a large pool of water blocking her path, and ran straight into it. She screamed as she slipped in the mud and then disappeared beneath the still water - resurfacing a moment later and thrashing around. One of the coyotes jumped right in there with her and she splashed and crawled and slipped her way back to the edge, clawing her way back out onto the soil, covered in mud and pond ooze.

The four coyotes were circling her now, one of them's fur was slick with the same slime that streamed from her. They were growling. She glanced around her, looking for any way out, but there was none. Backing away, she almost tripped over a tree branch lying on the ground. She picked it up and held it like a baseball bat, her only means of defending herself.

The first coyote leaped at her again, and this time - instead of running, she swung her branch and smacked it away from herself. She took out the next one as well … the other two were learning, because they were holding back - though they kept on growling, their hackles raised and she knew it was only a matter of time before they attacked her as a pack instead of individually. She gripped the branch tighter, ignoring the way splinters of wood drove themselves into her palms - her breath came out in desperate, ragged gasps and she closed her eyes waiting for the attack.

It never came. Instead, there was the sound of glass breaking and then a coyote whining. She opened her eyes. Doyle was there! He'd smashed a scotch bottle over the head of one of the animals and was now carrying a jagged fragment of glass like it was a knife. He stumbled towards her and took the branch from her hands. 'Stay behind me,' he said.

She cowered behind him, shrinking down - making herself as small as possible - as he yelled and went on the offensive, swinging the branch as hard as he could at the coyotes over and over again. One of them jumped at him, he swung, lost his footing due to the drink and missed it with the branch. It pinned him to the ground - tearing into his shoulder with its teeth. He screamed out in pain, and Cordelia yelped.

But then he brought up his hand, the one holding the glass, and stabbed the coyote in its shoulder joint. It whined in pain and limped away, bleeding. He struggled back to his feet, he was bleeding heavily as well - but he kept on swinging the branch until eventually the rest of the coyotes gave up and limped away as well, as if they were past caring. As if they had achieved what they had set out to do...

Then it was like all the fight went out of him. He turned and looked at Cordelia - they held eye contact for one long moment, and then he sunk to the ground - groaning. Cordy felt in her pocket for her car keys. She could make it back to the road, he couldn't come after her - she could be safe … but he was bleeding heavily. And if he hadn't turned up like he did, it would be her lying on the forest floor ripped to shreds right now. She tutted and shook her head in disbelief that she was about to do something so crazy - so stupid - and then teetered and tottered her way over to Doyle. She helped him back to his feet, and then wrapped his good arm around her shoulder and supported him all the way back to the mansion.

**...**

They hobbled into the kitchen together, the place was deserted and in darkness. Cordelia helped Doyle into a chair and then flipped the light switch on. Doyle winced and made a noise of protest as the light bulb lit up. 'Don't be silly,' Cordelia said to him, her tone was biting and impatient. 'I need to be able to see in order to fix you up - I don't care that you're ugly.'

'Oh … OK … I suppose.'

She helped him off with his jacket and then his shirt - both were torn and ripped to shreds. 'These just need to be thrown in the trash,' she said to him, 'although … they're pretty hideous anyway, so they're long past due on being trashed. Is this _polyester_?' She filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove to heat up. Once it was boiled, she poured it in a bowl and uncovered a clean dishcloth. 'You know, if you didn't drink so much you would probably have been able to fight those coyotes better - not got injured.'

Doyle rubbed his face with his good hand, he looked exhausted. 'I'll bear that in mind next time I fight off a pack of coyotes.'

'You should - but for now you should probably drink something to dull the pain. Here,' she handed him a bottle she had found stashed in the cupboard. He took it and swigged from it, gratefully.

'OK,' she carried the water and cloth over to him and then knelt on the floor in front of him. She dipped the cloth in the water, wrung it out and then held it up to dab on his wound. 'This might sting a little.'

'Huh? Ow!' He pulled his injured shoulder away from her and glared at her. 'That hurt.'

'If you'd just hold still it wouldn't hurt so much,' she snapped back.

'If you hadn't run away none of this would have happened.'

'Well if you hadn't yelled at me and gone postal throwing bottles I wouldn't have run away. You have no business having that many empty whisky bottles.'

'Well…' he opened his mouth to retort and then came to a stop, not being able to think of a reply. Eventually it came to him. 'Well _you_ shouldn't have been in the west wing.'

'Well _you_ should learn to control your drinking.' They both stared angrily at each other for a moment - and then Cordelia picked up the dishcloth and began to clean his wound again. 'Now just hold still.'

He grit his teeth and hissed in pain - but he didn't yell at her this time and, growing more confident, she cleaned and bandaged him up. 'By the way…' she said after a while, her voice sounding more uncertain than it had before. 'You were really brave back there.'

'Can you say that again without so much shock in your voice?'

'I'm sorry,' she looked into his eyes. 'I'm just …'

'Surprised?'

'Grateful.'

**...**

Xander and Jesse entered the police station. It was late and the place was quiet, the desk sergeant was missing from his post. The fluorescent lights were harsh and glaring after the dark of the night. Xander rang the bell and waited. 'See - this is perfect,' he said.

'You really think it'll work?' Jesse sounded doubtful.

'Of course it will - it's simple: Cordy's dad has gone crazy and run away. I contact the police. I send out the search party. I help find him and take care of him. Cordy sees what a great guy I am and forgives me. A perfect foundation on which to build our future bliss.'

'If you say so dude.'

'I do.' They were interrupted by the desk sergeant finally shuffling out of the backroom, donut crumbs were liberally sprinkled down his shirt front and crystals of powdered sugar gathered in the corners of his mouth. 'What do you two punks want?' he asked, sounding very much like a man who was coasting down to retirement and wanted for nothing but a quiet evening.

'Hi, yeah right,' Xander smiled at him, 'we'd like to report a crazy guy. He ran away from us and we'd like some help getting him back. If it wouldn't be too much trouble.'

**...**

The servants were gathered together, discussing events in low and hushed voices. 'So he got to her in time?' Liam said, 'she brought him back?'

'I told you,' Drusilla's voice was still a lilting sing song, 'I told you she was the one - come to save us.'

'He was badly injured,' Darla informed the men, ignoring Dru - as she so often did. 'I found all the mess in the kitchen this morning. Aud said Cordelia was exhausted when she returned to her room - but she had been tending him. That much we know.'

'Well, surely that's it?' William looked delighted, 'he got injured protecting her. That should break the spell!'

'Unlike you, Willy, it's not that simple,' Liam said.

'Shut it, you great tit.'

'Did you just call me a _tit?_ '

But Darla shook her head wearily. 'Enough! Liam's right.' Liam flashed William a smug smile, she ignored him as well … the men weren't really that much less work than Drusilla. 'It doesn't count as selfless if the only reason she was in trouble was because he frightened her into leaving the mansion in the first place. Besides - it behoves him to bring her back here. He might have been brave - but he's still a far cry from selfless.'

'Still,' William shrugged, 'it's progress.'

'So what do we do now?' Liam asked.

'We wait and see…'

**...**

The next morning was a beautiful one, the air was fresh and clear and the sky was perfectly blue. Cordelia lay on a bench in the gardens. The sun was shining down brightly on her and she was working on her tan. High above her, Doyle watched from his balcony. His injured arm was still in a sling, it hurt whenever he moved it - and he kept forgetting and trying to move it. Last night had taken a lot out of him. But Cordelia … she was being held prisoner, against her will; she'd been attacked by a slavering pack of wild coyotes just the night before; she had no way of contacting her family … and there she was, sunning herself in the garden like she didn't have a care in the world.

'I don't think I've ever met anybody quite like her before,' he said to William and Liam, who were lurking behind him - watching, as Darla had told them to.

'She does seem … unusually resilient,' Liam said, 'if a little snappish with it.'

Doyle shook his head. 'I think her bark's worse than her bite. Everything she says is really rude and mean but … she gave up her freedom to save her father, when she didn't have to. And last night, she didn't have to help me home, or fix me up. I think she's softer than she pretends … more selfless than even she thinks. I'd like to do somethin' for her. Make her feel welcome - at home.'

'Well - you could do all the usual things,' Liam said to him, 'flowers, chocolates, promises you don't intend to keep…'

But William, ever the romantic, shook his head. 'No, this needs to be something really special.'

'If you're about to suggest he writes her some poetry, Willy…'

'Sod off - I'm talking about him doing something for her that will really speak to her… I know!' He snapped his fingers, as an idea hit him.

**...**

Doyle led Cordelia down the hallway, they stopped outside a door. He cleared his throat and looked nervous. 'There's somethin' I want to show you, Cordy, but - it's a surprise. You gotta close your eyes.'

She looked suspicious, but then smiled and did as he asked. 'You're not gonna take your penis out are you?' she asked, perfectly calmly.

He spluttered. 'I wasn't plannin' to, no.'

'Because it's green and prickly?'

''Cause I'm not kind o' guy… let's just - in here.' He waved his hand in front of her face to check her eyes were really and truly closed and then, his heart pounding in his chest - wondering if she would object - he took hold of her hand and led her into the room. He left her in the middle and went over to the window.

'Can I open them yet?' she asked.

'No no, not yet.' He drew back the curtains, the sunlight flooded into the room, she turned her head slightly as she felt its warmth. 'OK,' he said to her, 'now.'

She opened her eyes - and her mouth fell open in delighted wonder. A pleased smile spread across Doyle's face as he watched her stare around the room. 'This place it's just ...I can't believe it!' He had taken her into the large dressing room of the old Hollywood movie star who used to own the mansion. It was hung, wall to wall, with beautiful, designer, vintage dresses. Rich materials and vibrant colours pressed against each other, rustling slightly. 'I've never seen so many gorgeous clothes in all my life!'

'Do you like them?' he asked her eagerly.

'They're wonderful!'

'Then they're yours.'

'Oh!' she gasped in delight and her eyes filled with tears. But then a moment later she was rifling through the hangers, pawing at the fabrics. 'Thank you, these are just - aha!' she suddenly laughed, sounding triumphant. 'I have new clothes! Thank you Thank you Thank you!'

He shrugged modestly, 'well - none of them are really my style, you know? I mean - I've tried 'em. All of 'em. None of them suit me.' He pulled out a little black Chanel number and held it against himself, looking down at it sadly, 'not even this one.'

Cordelia giggled - and then went back to rifling through her new possessions. 'This is just so great. We should see if there are some men's clothes here, as well - so you don't have to walk around looking like a tragic disaster happened in a polyester factory.'

'Yeah? You don't think maybe I should stick to this?' He pulled out a floor length, scarlet evening gown.

She giggled again. 'Well, it would look better on you than _that_ shirt.'

...

The servants stood down the other end of the hall and peered in at where Doyle and Cordy were standing in the dressing room, looking at the clothes, and laughing and looking happier than the shadowy figures had ever seen them before. 'Well would you look at that?' Darla said.

William looked pleased with himself, 'I knew it would work.'

'I told you she was the one,' Drusilla said.

Liam nodded, 'it's certainly looking very encouraging. That's another act of kindness. Our boy is on his way.'

**...**

At the breakfast table the next morning, Cordelia was sipping her coffee. Doyle sat down at the other end, swigging from his scotch bottle. She frowned at him. He looked abashed, and glanced at the bottle in his hands, but didn't seem to know what to do to stop her being mad. William took pity on him and put a glass down on the table. Doyle nodded his thanks and poured himself a shot, but when he looked up, Cordelia was not looking any less disapproving. The two men shrugged at each other.

Darla tutted - and plonked a cup of coffee down on the table in front of Doyle, before confiscating the bottle and the glass. Cordelia smiled, and raised her own cup in a toast. Doyle copied her - and they drank their breakfast coffee in quiet harmony.

**...**

Later in the day, she dragged him up to the dressing room which adjoined the room with her dresses and started going through the movie star's husband's things; holding shirts up against Doyle and then shaking her head and searching for something else.

'What about this one?' Doyle showed her a shirt that was a dark shade of plum.

She stared at him like he was mad. 'It's _purple!_ '

'So?'

'You're _green_. Jeez - talk about clashing with your complexion. Let's find you something in a nice blue.' She rifled through the drawers until she found what she was looking for and handed it across to him. 'Put it on.'

He held it in one hand and looked uncertain, 'uh -'

'Go on.'

Meekly, he stripped off his own shirt, under Cordelia's watchful eye, and put on this new one, buttoning it up. She nodded approvingly. 'Much better.'

**...**

They went outside into the sunshine, interrupting the chirrup of the birdsong with their presence. The birds fluttered away, or hopped from branch to branch to distance themselves from this human incursion - but they were enticed back again, quickly enough, when Cordelia scattered some birdseed on the ground. A couple of the braver creatures flew down right away and began to peck, the others stayed hidden in their trees - waiting to see if it really was safe. 'Here let me try,' Doyle took a handful of seed and held it out - one very bold bird hopped straight into his outstretched hand. He looked so thrilled that Cordelia could barely hide her smile.

_He's kind of sweet…_ she thought to herself. _That's kind of messed … but he was mean and he was drunk and badly dressed. But now he's cute. It's so strange … I think being trapped here is sending me deranged._

Doyle looked up from the bird in his hand, to where Cordelia was watching him- she was biting her lip. _She's not quite as mean,_ he thought, _as she once was, and she's stopped acting like she thinks I'm a dead loss. But she thinks I'm gross - with all these spikes… but then she just looked at me like she saw something she liked…_

Under his scrutiny, Cordelia had blushed and turned away - pretending to examine the flowers. When she dared a glance back at him, it was to see that he had been completely inundated with feeding birds; sitting on top of his head, on his shoulders pecking away at him. He was looking grumpy. She giggled. _No way! This is just not proper! This absolutely cannot be! He's the ultimate fixer upper …. But then there's something in him that I simply didn't see.'_

She sank down on the edge of the fountain and watched him try to shoo away the birds. Laughing again, she dipped her hand into the water and then flicked it - splashing him.

'Hey!' he splashed her back.

' _Hey!'_ She splashed him double handed and then the gloves came off and they both started frantically paddling their hands, soaking the other in cascades of fountain water.

...

The servants watched them from above. 'Well who'd have thought?' Liam said, 'looks like they're coming together on their own.'

'Let's just wait and see - ' Darla cautioned, 'a few days more … maybe there'll be something there that wasn't there before.'

**...**

As the evening drew in, the pair of them settled down in front of the roaring fire and played gin rummy for a penny a point.

'You're cheating!' Cordelia grumbled, handing a penny over. 'I can see you cheating.'

'I'm not cheating!' he protested - his red eyes widening in innocence.

'Yeah right - with that face no one can tell if you're bluffing or not…. You should go to Vegas. You'd win big.'

'I can't go to Vegas - I can't leave the house.'

'OK ...no - but you should stop cheating me.'

'I'm not cheating!'

...

The servants smiled knowingly at each other, as they poured the drinks, stoked the fire and kept the pair supplied with a constant stream of appetisers. There was definitely something there that hadn't been there before.


	6. Beauty and the Beast

After running away from Xander, Mr. Chase had returned to his home. Realising that no one would believe him and that there was no one to help him, he had come to the conclusion that - if Cordelia was to be rescued - he was just going to have to do it himself. And so he had prepared for journeying out to the woods - on foot, as his car was still crashed up there - and finding his way back to the mansion, alone.

He had muttered to himself, rather distractedly, and run his fingers through his hair so it stood out wildly on end, as he pulled out drawers and rifled through their contents, deciding what he would need. His behaviour, had there been anyone watching him, did indeed seem erratic and out of character, it would have been cause for concern for anyone who knew him … Because, as a general rule, Mr. Chase did not go around ransacking his own home and talking to himself about hidden beasts and imprisoned daughters… But then he was not living in general times, and the general rules no longer applied.

He had put on a stout pair of walking shoes, which he had once bought in a fit of whimsy when considering hiking the Appalachian trail - a trip he never then taken, choosing to vacation in Los Palmos instead. He put on thick socks and layered up his clothing, so he was ready for the heat of the day and the cold of the night. Then he had gone down to the kitchen and hurriedly filled water bottles, and stashed snacks in a knapsack. Finally he had taken several of his insulin pens out of the fridge, placed two in his pockets and put the rest in with his snacks. He wasn't going to get caught out the same way again, he told himself. Not this time. This time he would be the one to do the rescuing.

He left by the back door, slamming it behind him as he marched off into the night.

...

Little had he known how close he had come to being caught. For, as he marched out of the back, Xander tried the front door, found it unlocked and walked into the hallway. 'Mr. Chase?' he called out, though he got no answer, 'Cordelia? Are you here?'

But all was silence. He looked around, frowning. When he had been there, earlier in the day, the place had been impeccably tidy - the Chase Housekeeper ran a tight ship - but now: furniture was knocked over, the cupboard doors in the kitchen hung open, their contents spilled across the work surfaces. And when he went upstairs to check for signs of life, it was only to find a similar story upstairs. Drawers were pulled from the chests, hanging open, clothes strewn all over everywhere.

It looked like a burglary but … the television was still in place, the VCR unmoved, all of their expensive furniture and costly new tech was right where it was supposed to be. Only some old clothes and some bags of chips seemed to be missing. Something was wrong with the whole picture.

There was the sound of footsteps on the stairs and Jesse appeared in the room, 'anyone home?'

'Not by the look of it.'

'Oh well - I guess your plan isn't gonna work after all.'

'Not so fast,' Xander shook his head. 'Cordy and her dad aren't home right now, but they've got to come back - and when they do…'

'You call the cops on them? Does that really sound wise?'

'Jesse, man - look around,' he gestured to the mess they were standing in. 'Something has happened here, and I think Mr. Chase did it - you saw him out in the road, he was acting nuts. We need to get him help. So you're gonna stay here and watch until someone comes home, let me know immediately if they do.'

'What are you gonna do?' Jesse sounded annoyed.

'I'm gonna help the police look for him.'

'What if nobody comes back here?'

'This is Cordelia's house,' Xander said to him, his voice was slow - like he thought Jesse was being an idiot. 'Chances are she'll come back here.'

'Alright, man - but I'm only staying here for a couple of hours. Then I'm gone and you can take over.'

'Done - we'll take it in turns.'

Jesse only sighed.

...

But, of course, no one had returned home and now, days later, Mr. Chase was lost in the woods, stumbling around in circles. He knew he was going in circles because, after the first day - and the increasing suspicion that he was covering the same ground over and over - he had hit upon the idea of marking trees. Every few hours he would stumble back to an already marked tree and feel a fresh wave of despair crash over him.

It seemed impossible, this stretch of woods could not be that expansive. The mansion was not that far out of town. He had found it in a matter of minutes last time but now … the trees and shrubs seemed to move around on their own accord, he kept getting muddled as to which direction he was going in and it was beginning to feel more and more like there was some malevolent force trying to stop him from reaching his goal. Though that must just be the exhaustion talking, he assured himself, there could be no truth to that. And it was at least a blessing that this time he had not encountered the pack of coyotes - that would be all he needed.

But still, he had lost track of how long he had been out here - though he knew it was a number of days. His snacks were gone, his water was nearly finished. His blood sugar was dangerously low and he was down to his last insulin shot. But he still wasn't willing to give up. If he went back to town, he would be admitting defeat and - though he could get more supplies - he would only be starting over from the exact same place, no closer to rescuing Cordy. She would be trapped with that hideous beast for even longer.

And that was assuming he didn't get stopped, if he went back to town. There had been talk of calling the police on him, even in his fear addled and desperate state he had heard that. He could not risk being stopped by the authorities from continuing his search. And he knew he would find no supporters, no one to believe him, not if they hadn't believed him the first time.

So he was determined to keep on. But the sun was starting to set, once again, the night to draw in - and he knew he only had a couple of hours at most before he would be too weak to keep on searching. If he was to find and save his daughter, it was now or never. He took his last insulin shot, drank the last of his water and then set his jaw determinedly - marching grimly onward.

**...**

The steam swirled around the bathroom, misting up the cracked mirrors and leaving beads of moisture hanging in the air. Doyle had been soaking in the tub for so long his green skin had gone all pruny, but now it was time to get out he suddenly found himself attacked by nerves and wondering if he wouldn't have a better evening if he spent it right where he was, submerged in warm water. 'I don't think I can do this,' he announced to William, who was standing beside the tub, holding the towel ready.

But the servant shook his head. 'Tonight is the night! You don't have time to be timid. You must be bold, daring!'

'Bold,' Doyle repeated to himself, 'daring.' He puffed his chest up … and then deflated. He still didn't think he could do this. With a sigh, he heaved himself up out of the water and clambered out of the tub. He took the towel from William and rubbed himself all over, before wrapping it around his waist.

William had delicately looked away whilst Doyle was exposed, carefully inspecting an imagined frayed thread on the end of his smoky, insubstantial cuff. 'There will be music, like a lark has spake from betwixt its wee beak' he said, 'and romantic candlelight, cutting a swath through the dark like a glittering gleam - and when the time is right, and your heart is swollen by your affections, you will seize your moment and confess your love.'

'Yes I conf…' he shook his head, 'no - I can't do it.' He sat down, his face was glum beneath his spikes.

'You care for the girl don't you?' William asked, bringing out a comb and a pair of a scissors.

'More than anything.'

'Well then. You must tell her.' He began to comb through Doyle's hair and then snip away at it, tidying it up ready for the big night. Then, after a few minutes and a final flourish with the scissors, he took a step back and surveyed his handiwork. 'Voila - you look so .. so…'

'Spiky? Green? Hideous?'

'Not exactly the words I was looking for.'

Doyle got to his feet and shook his head, so the last stray trimmings of hair fell to the ground. 'Well, thanks, bud, but I think it's gonna take more than a haircut to hide the whole fiasco that is my face … maybe somethin' in a paper bag…?'

But he was interrupted from his gloomy contemplation of his own physical shortcomings by a knock at the door. Liam entered, smiling. 'Your lady awaits,' he announced.

**...**

The door to Cordelia's room opened and she emerged out onto the staircase dressed in the same scarlet evening gown that Doyle had once joked about wearing. It had been used as a costume in a very early film adaptation of Anna Karenina and it swept to the floor in a cascade of velvet and then trailed behind her in an elegant train. The richness of the colour gave lustre to her skin and contrasted beautifully with her dark eyes and hair. She wore elbow length white, satin gloves and satin heels on her feet.

Her hair fell down to her bare shoulders and streamed across her skin. Aud had worked long and hard curling and teasing and blow drying, until the style was one of sophistication which matched her faux nineteenth century ball gown, with one layer twisted into an elegant bun and pinned in place at the back of her head.

As she appeared at the top of her staircase, Doyle appeared at the top of his. He was wearing an old tux - white tie with tails. For once, the chandelier was lit but he was not trying to hide in the shadows. Cordelia bit her lip and blushed when she saw him and then put one hand on the banister to steady herself as she descended the staircase. Across from her, he did the same.

They met on the lower landing and Doyle bowed low, using a flourish which suggested he had been taking lessons from William. Giggling, Cordelia swept down into a curtsy and then he offered her his arm, she accepted, and together they made their way to the dining room.

Liam followed behind them, playing a romantic tune on a fiddle. They sat down at either end of the table and were served by Darla and William. Drusilla hovered in the shadows, watching. 'Tale as old as time,' she said.

'What's that, pet?' William asked her, bustling past to get back to the kitchen.

'True as it can be. Barely even friends, then somebody bends - unexpectedly.'

'What are you wittering about?' Darla said, scathingly. She collected the empty soup bowls and took them away, just as William came back out with the main course. Drusilla remained in her corner, rocking back and forth on her toes and talking to herself in her dreamy voice. 'Just a little change. Small to say the least.' She closed her eyes and smiled. 'Both a little scared, neither one prepared… ' she gasped and opened her eyes again, 'beauty and the beast.'

'Do you know you're talking in rhyme?' Darla asked her, sounding supremely irritated, as she walked past - bringing the wine to the table. Drusilla only smiled again, more knowingly this time. 'Ever just the same, ever a surprise…' she laughed out loud, sounding delighted … and deranged.

Across the room, Cordelia and Doyle finished eating and, arm in arm, left the room and headed out for the main hall. Liam followed them, his tune changing to a waltz. Darla and William began to clear the table. 'You know, it wouldn't kill you to help,' Darla snapped at Dru, 'instead of standing there in the corner, all creepy, talking in verse.'

Drusilla drifted to the table and picked up a fork - just one fork. Instead of clearing anything else, she held it up to the light and examined it. 'Ever as before, ever just as sure, as the sun will rise…' she laughed again.

Darla shook her head, 'god help us all,' she muttered, 'because that nutcase isn't going to.'

...

Out in the main hall, beneath the chandelier, Doyle and Cordy had their arms wrapped around each other and were slow dancing to the tune Liam played for them on his fiddle. They were quiet, the only sounds the notes of the music soaring upwards towards the high ceilings, but Cordelia was smiling, quietly, to herself and eventually Doyle worked up the nerve to ask her what she was thinking.

'Oh,' she blushed a little, the rosiness in her cheeks suddenly matching the fabric of her dress. 'I was just thinking … how much better tonight is than prom.'

'Yeah?' He managed to look surprised, even under his face full of prickles.

'Uhuh,' she nodded, and wrapped her arms around him tighter. He looked more surprised but didn't say anything to ruin the moment, instead just waiting for her to tell him why. 'Prom was … I'd just split up with my boyfriend,' she said eventually, a little wrinkle had appeared above the bridge of her nose and she was no longer smiling. 'And it was a bad breakup, I had no one I could talk to about it - my friends had never approved of him in the first place. So when prom came around, I didn't have a date.' She snorted gently and shook her head, 'that sure wasn't how I imagined my senior prom going. But I had to go alone and then, when the slow dance came on, I had no one to dance with. I just … went home and inhaled an entire pack of cookies, then I was just sitting there - in my expensive prom dress, covered in cookie crumbs and crying …' She forced a smile and looked Doyle in the eyes, 'how pathetic was that?'

He smiled back at her, gently, 'I mean - I can't leave the house because I'm too ugly to be seen in public, so - if you wanna compare sob stories…'

She laughed, 'OK - you win.'

'You know,' he hesitated and looked suddenly shy, 'you … you look really beautiful tonight.'

'Well, duh!'

It was his turn to laugh. 'Well I guess you looked in a mirror, huh?'

'You haven't smashed the ones in my room … I'm pretty much a hottie, I know it.'

'Well, that dress certainly looks better on you than it would have on me.'

She giggled, 'you just don't have the figure for it.' He laughed along with her and then twirled her around, spinning her out and then holding her close once she had danced back to him. As the music swelled, he dipped her low and for one heart stopping moment her face was just beneath his, so close he could count her eyelashes and all it would take was a few inches more and he … he remembered the spikes and pulled her back up. He couldn't kiss her when he looked like this - no matter how much he wanted to.

...

Finished in the kitchen, Darla, Dru and William came out into the main hall to watch. The couple were slowly turning in time to the music, holding each other so close there wasn't so much as an inch between them. Drusilla sighed, 'tale as old as time.'

Darla rolled her eyes, 'oh god, not again.'

'Tune as old as song, bittersweet and strange…'

' _What is?'_

'Finding you can change, learning you wrong.'

'Is this going somewhere?'

'Certain as the sun.'

Darla threw her hands up in frustration and marched off. William wrapped his arm around Drusilla's waist, she dropped her head onto his shoulder and together they watched the dancing couple. 'You know, pet,' William said to her, 'I think you might've been right about her - maybe she is the one.'

Drusilla smiled her knowing smile. 'Tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme, beauty and the beast.'

**...**

The song came to an end, the notes fading out - and Doyle and Cordelia left the hall and went out into the gardens. It was beautiful out there in the moonlight. The Jasmine flowers bloomed at night, spreading their heady perfume. The birds were quiet but that just made the fountain sound all the louder as it bubbled away. They sat down on the edge of it, side by side, and looked up at the stars - thousands of tiny pinpricks glistening in the black, like fireflies.

'You know, when I lived in L.A, I never saw the stars,' Doyle said, 'not in all the years I was there - too much smog. I like it here where it's cleaner, quieter.'

'You used to live in L.A?' Cordelia sounded surprised, but impressed.

'Uh - yeah, you know, before …' he gestured to his face. 'I was a teacher.'

'Wow - what'd you teach?'

'3rd grade.'

'Wow… I'd kill to live in L.A,' she said.

'You would?'

'To be that close to that many shoes! I was supposed to go to New York city for college which would have been just as good, better even. But … well…' she trailed off and looked uncomfortable.

Doyle looked uncomfortable too, he shifted in his seat. 'Um … yeah…' he rubbed the back of his neck. 'Listen, Cordelia, I was just wonderin'...' he shuffled about again, 'are you happy here, you know, with me?'

'Oh,' she hesitated for a moment, '...sure.'

He frowned, 'you kinda look like you got a but there.'

She stared at him.

'With one t - that kind o' but,' he hastened to add.

'Oh,' she breathed a laugh, 'right - no - it's just …' she trailed off.

'You wanna go to New York?' he guessed.

She shook her head, 'no … I mean - yes, obviously, I do. But I don't wanna leave here either. If I could just … pick this place up and take it with me, that would be great.'

'Just … just the place?' There was a wobble to his voice, he sounded like he was holding his breath.

Cordelia held her breath as well, there was a long, tense moment of silence and then she shook her head quickly. 'No,' she admitted, 'not just the place. The people too. You know, Aud and Darla … and you.'

Doyle let his breath out, in one long, shaky sigh. He took hold of her hand, holding it with both of his. 'I mean, I guess … I came here and the enchantress put her spells round the place and sent in the servants. This is where I chose to hide, I'm not being held here. Maybe I could go some place else and she would do the same?'

'Maybe,' though Cordelia sounded doubtful. She looked around the garden, so peaceful and still in the moonlight. 'I can't imagine we'd get some primo real estate like this in the big city, though - more like a roach infested one bed apartment above a drug store or something.'

'I could live like that if you could …' he cleared his throat. 'So - if we can find a way for you to stay with me and go to college then you would be perfectly happy?'

'Yeah…'

'You still got "but" face.'

She looked offended. 'You've got a butt for a face!'

He laughed, 'still only with one t, darlin' - you'd be perfectly happy _but_ …?' He looked at her, encouraging her to talk.

'Well, OK…' she sighed. 'I guess I'd like to see my dad again. Even if just for a minute. I don't even know if he got home OK…'

Doyle hung his head, regretting bitterly how he had treated her and her father when they had first come to the house. It had been less than a week, but it already felt like a lifetime ago, he felt like a whole new man. In fact, he felt like a man, period. Back then he had felt like a monster. Then he thought of something, and looked up excitedly. 'There is a way,' he told her.

**...**

He took her up to the west wing. It was just as dusty and cobwebby as before, the rose the one shining brightness in an otherwise gloomy attic. The magic mirror lay beside the rose, and Doyle picked it up and handed it to Cordelia. 'This mirror will show you anything you want to see,' he said to her. 'All you have to do is ask.'

She held it in her hands, her own face reflected back at her - looking doubtful. 'I'd like to see my father - please,' she said, uncertainly. Immediately the mirror flashed green and crackled into life with a ripple of magic. And then an image came into view: of Mr. Chase, face down in the woods - lying all alone in the dark.

Cordelia gasped, horrified and her eyes filled with tears.

'What is it?' Doyle asked her, 'what do you see?' He could tell something was badly wrong, and it made his heart beat faster with fear.

'It's my father, he's sick - he might be dying...' she was staring into the mirror, the wrinkle above the bridge of her nose was back. 'And he's all alone.'

His heart sank and it felt like all the air had just left his body. 'Then…' he didn't want to say the words. He regretted them before they were even spoken, but he knew it was what he had to do - it was the only right thing to do. But that didn't make it hurt any less. 'Then you must go to him.'

She looked up from the mirror, surprise breaking through the concern. 'What did you say?' her voice shook.

Doyle closed his eyes and forced the words out. 'I release you. You're no longer my prisoner.'

'You mean … I'm free?'

He nodded, and hung his head. 'Yes.'

'Oh thank you.' she looked back into the mirror, 'hang on in there, daddy, I'm on my way.' She turned to leave - and then remembered the mirror in her hands and turned back to Doyle, holding it out. But he shook his head. 'Take it,' he said, 'and maybe - when you're at college - you can look at it sometime … and remember me.'

She bit her lip - and then nodded her head. 'Thank you for understanding how much he needs me,' she said, and then she hurried from the room.

...

As she left, she passed Liam, coming in the opposite direction - he smiled at her and then knocked on the door to the west wing, going inside without waiting to be called. He grinned when he saw Doyle standing there, 'well, master, I must say everything is going according to plan - I knew you had it in you…' There was no reply. 'Master?'

'I let her go,' Doyle said - and the heaviness of his voice betrayed the heaviness of his heart.

'Yes yes- that's grea…' the actual words took a moment to penetrate, so confident was he that all was going well. But then his brain caught up with his ears - revealing the ugly truth. 'You did what? How could you do that?'

'Because I had to.'

'But but - _why_?'

Doyle looked up at his servant, the pain was all too evident in his red eyes. 'Because I love her.'

**...**

'He did _what?_ ' The servants were gathered in the kitchen, looking aghast at the news Liam had just conveyed.

Liam nodded, 'yeah - I know. But I'm afraid it's true.'

Drusilla was looking very upset, 'she's going away?' she asked, like she didn't quite understand, 'but she was the one...'

'Maybe she wasn't,' Darla wiped a tear from her eye, 'I'll speak to Aud. Maybe Cordelia said something before she left… but it looks like this is going to be another failure, we'll be trapped in this enchantment yet again. Maybe forever. There isn't any time left for him to find someone else to be selfless for - the rose is practically bare.'

'Did he say why he did it?' William asked, he had his arm wrapped around Drusilla - who had started to cry.

'He said he let her go … because he loves her,' Liam said heavily.

But his words made William perk up and look excited. 'Well that's it then. Isn't it?' he asked, looking around at his fellow servants. 'That's a selfless act! He hurt himself to make her happy … that should break the spell.'

But Darla shook her head. 'He was holding her against her will. Releasing her is only right. That's not selfless enough to count.'

'But he was getting so close' William groaned. 'He was really learning.'

'And now it's too late…'

**...**

Cordelia had stripped off her evening gown and got back into the pants, top and jacket she had arrived at the mansion in. She checked for her car keys, she would need them if she was going to get her father home - he would be a dead weight - there would be no way she could lug him all the way back to town. As she put her hand on the door handle, she glanced back, regretfully, at the abandoned dress. It had been a beautiful dress… it had been a beautiful evening … but her father needed her - and she tore her eyes away and ran out, down the stairs - carefully not thinking about how it felt to come down them earlier - and through the hall - carefully not remembering dancing there. Then she was out of the back door and leaving the mansion behind.

...

Watching her leave from above, up in the west wing, Doyle took a swig of scotch straight from the bottle. He had removed his jacket and loosened his tie, rolled up his shirt sleeves and was settling in for a despairing and empty night's drinking. This was the worst he had felt since the night he had fallen under this enchantment… this was the worst he had ever felt.

Cordelia reached the end of the path, pulled open the iron gates and then disappeared from view - obscured by the pine trees. Doyle felt something warm roll down his face, between his spikes, he touched it with the tips of his fingers and was surprised to discover it was a tear. He hadn't cried in months, not since he was first changed. There was no point - the enchantress paid no heed to tears. But now Cordelia had entered his life - and left it just as suddenly - and he was crying again.

He wandered off the balcony and back into the gloom of the attic, taking another swig from his bottle. As if timed by cruel irony, a petal fell from the rose and landed silently amongst the others. The stem was now all but bare and seeing it - seeing the unfairness of it all - filled him with a sudden rage. With a great yell of frustration and anger, Doyle hurled the bottle of scotch across the room, smashing it against the opposite wall. And then he began to tear apart the west wing, smashing everything to pieces. His heart was broken inside his chest - as fragmented as all the mirrors he had smashed to hide his monstrous face.


	7. Kill The Beast

When Mr. Chase came to, he found himself back home in his own bed, beneath his own soft blankets and propped up on many pillows. He had no recollection of getting there, the last he remembered was collapsing to the forest floor, unable to go another step further, before the blackness took him. He had been sure he was about to die and in that moment had felt the most desperate anguish at having failed Cordelia. But, now, as the blackness receded and he slowly blinked open his eyes, it was to find he was not dead, he was surrounded by downy softness and somebody was dabbing his brow with a cool, damp cloth.

As his eyes regained focus and adjusted to the light, he realised that the blurry outline sitting beside him on the bed was none other than Cordelia, herself. A wave of surprise and relief and delight crashed over him and he reached out and took her hand.

...

Down in the street, Jesse sloped along the sidewalk - hands in pockets, grumbling to himself - ready to take up his position watching the house. It had been days. It had been so long that he was even starting to wonder if maybe something _had_ happened to Cordelia … not the nonsense with the beast but - maybe she had run away or been kidnapped and the old man had gone insane with grief, concocted a monster for him to fight - created a delusion that there was a way to rescue his daughter and bring her home.

But, as he hopped up onto the wall which acted as his lookout spot, he noticed something different about the house tonight. For the first time in days, the lights were on. 'Oh, they're back,' he said to himself - and jumped down from the wall and went to ring Xander and give him the good news.

...

Mr. Chase squeezed his daughter's hand, clinging tightly as if to make sure she was really there. 'Cordy?'

'Shh, daddy, it's OK - I'm home.' She smiled down at him, still mopping his brow with the cloth - and trying not to think about the time she had fixed up Doyle when he was injured.

'I thought I'd never see you again.'

'I know … I thought so too - it's OK…'

He struggled to sit up against his pile of pillows, 'but the beast, how did you escape?'

'I didn't escape, daddy,' she shook her head, 'he let me go.'

'That horrible beast?'

'He isn't horrible he's … he has a lot going on. And he has a name. _Doyle_.' She couldn't help but smile as she said his name, though it hurt to think of him. 'He's different to how he was when you met him - less drunk, less angry - more kind. He...'

But she was cut off from extolling the many virtues of the green man who had taken her prisoner by a sudden and sharp rapping at the door. She frowned. 'Just wait here, I'll be right back,' she said - and got up from the bed and went downstairs.

The house was still a mess, from Mr. Chase's ransacking it the week before, and their return had only made things worse - Cordelia had abandoned her jacket and purse on the hall floor as soon as she stepped inside, so eager was she to get her father safely up to bed. But she was too annoyed at the interruption of someone at the door to feel embarrassed about the mess they would see if they peered into her hallway.

She peered through the spyhole. It was a police officer. Her brow still furrowed, and mystified as to what they would want - and at this late hour, she opened up the door. 'May I help you?'

'Yeah,' the cop sounded bored, he was chewing gum and looked like he didn't really want to be there. 'We've had reports that the man who lives here has his been acting erratically and out of character, making some pretty crazy claims, caused a scene downtown a few days ago - we'd like to take him to hospital, get him checked over, get him a psych evaluation.'

He gestured behind him to where an Ambulance was idling in the road. ' _What?'_ She inhaled sharply and furiously, her eyes snapping over to the ambulance and registering the small crowd of onlookers gathered around it. 'What is this?'

'Don't worry ma'am - we'll take good care of him.'

'What? I'm not letting you drag my dad off to some psych ward and lock him up - my dad's not crazy!'

'Oh come on!' a voice called out from the crowd, and then Jesse stepped forward. 'He was out in the streets, raving like a lunatic - just a few days ago, we all heard him!' he turned around to the group of gathered people, seeking their back up. The crowd all nodded and muttered their agreement. Cordelia glared daggers at Jesse.

There was a sound behind her and she whirled around to see her dad dragging himself down the stairs, 'Cordelia?' he said, his voice was shaky.

'Get back upstairs,' she commanded, but it was too late - the crowd had seen him.

'Come on, Mr. Chase,' Jesse called out, 'tell Cordelia about the beast you saw - about his red eyes and prickles.'

'Well - uh…' Mr. Chase looked flustered, 'he had this green skin, see and…'

But the crowd was roaring with laughter. The cop was looking unimpressed, 'if you'll just come with me, sir.'

'It's true I tell you!' But the cop didn't listen and just grabbed hold of him and began to bundle him toward the ambulance, whilst the rest of the street looked on. 'Let go of me!'

Cordelia ran out of the house after him, trying to pull him away from the police officer - but the cop's grip was too strong, and soon she was lost in the crowd unable to reach her father.

It was there that she bumped into Xander. 'Xander!' she cried, 'my dad's not crazy, you know that. Tell them!

But Xander only looked awkward. 'You can see how it looks, Cordy. He really seems to believe in this beast - that it took you prisoner. He ran away when we tried to help him before, he was attacking people and yelling in the street … we only wanna make sure he's OK. Get him the help he needs.'

' _What?'_ She drew away from him, looking disgusted. Then an idea struck her and she turned her back on her ex boyfriend, struggling and fighting her way back through the crowds and towards her house - ignoring both Xander and her father as they called after her.

Her purse was lying on the hall floor, where she had dumped it earlier. 'Come on come on,' she muttered to herself frantically as she rifled through it, until she found the magic mirror and pulled it out. She ran back outside, stood on the porch and yelled out loud enough for the whole crowd to hear her: 'my father's not crazy and I can prove it!'

The mob went quiet and still. Cordelia held up the mirror. 'Show me the beast,' she cried out to it - and a moment later it flashed green, its magic rippling across the surface and changing the image within from her own reflection to that of Doyle - in the west wing, his green face screwed up with rage and misery as he hurled bottle after bottle at the wall and kicked over the furniture.

There was a sharp intake of breath from the crowd. 'Is it dangerous?' a woman shouted out.

'Oh no!' Cordelia lowered the mirror and looked fondly at the image of Doyle. 'I know he looks all angry and mental - but that's not true. He's really kind and gentle. He's my friend.'

'You know, Cordy,' Xander gave an uneasy smile, 'it - uh - it kinda sounds like you have some feelings for this monster.'

Her eyes flashed with anger. 'God, Xander Harris! You are _totally_ deficient. He's not a monster - but _you_ are a cretin.'

'Hey that's not fair - look at him. If you don't think he's dangerous - then maybe the crazy runs in the family.' He ran up to her and plucked the mirror from her hand.

'Hey - gimme,' she tried to grab it back, but he held it up out of her reach, showing the enchanted glass to the crowd so they could look upon the monster within. 'Look - this guy isn't right. Look at him! He took Cordelia prisoner, he sent her dad crazy - who knows what else he's done? Who else he's hurt?'

'No!' Cordelia tried to protest.

But Xander's words had already stirred up the crowd, and they paid her no attention. 'We're not safe until we've gone up there and chased him outta town!' Xander cried, 'and freed any prisoners he's keeping - oh! And bodies. There might be bodies, we need to check for those. I say we go up there and do whatever it takes to make sure he never hurts any of us again!'

The crowd roared in approval. 'We're not safe until he's gone,' one woman muttered.

'He'll catch us unawares,' a man agreed.

'And then steal away our children and hold them prisoner in his lair.'

'He'll play havoc throughout Sunnydale if we let him wander free…'

Xander climbed onto the railings of Cordy's porch, clinging to the post for support with one hand and waving the mirror with the other. 'So it's time to take some action, people, it's time to follow me! Up the road, out of town, through the wood and up the mountains - I know it's scary but it's something we must do. Not far away, too close to call, there's a monster in a mansion and it means no good for me or good for you. It's a beast! It's got green skin and bright red eyes, and it lurks just out of town to the east. See his face, watch him rage - this thing belongs in a cage - an iron cage - let's get the beast!'

'No!' Cordelia reached up and grabbed hold of Xander, pulling him back down to her level, 'I won't let you do this!'

But he just shook his head, 'I'm sorry Cordy - whatever crazy hypno power this monster has, he's hit you right with it. Laid his whammy on you…'

'He doesn't have any _whammy_.'

'You stink with whammy,' he turned and called to the police, 'bring her father back here - put a guard on them both, we can't risk them running off to warn the beast.'

Cordelia felt herself seized and bundled back inside her home. She fought and protested the whole way, stamping on toes and biting any part of her captors she could reach. 'Let me go!' but they paid her no mind, and she was unceremoniously shoved back inside the hallway - her father thrown in with her, and then the cop stepped inside and closed the door - blocking it.

Outside, Xander was still using the mirror to rile up the crowd. 'We'll rid Sunnydale of this beast - who's with me?'

The crowd all shouted in agreement. Then, grabbing their keys and getting in their cars, screwing their courage to the sticking place, they turned on their headlights and pressed down on the gas - leaving the town in convoy and relying on Xander - and the mirror - to lead the way.

...

Up front, in Uncle Rory's 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air, Jesse looked uncomfortable - and more than a little nervous. 'I mean, so this is really it - a beast? A real life monster? And what? We're gonna face him down and chop him up until he's good and deceased? Is there even a plan here? Or is it just … sally forth, tally ho - grab your gun and off we go…'

'I'm not saying we're gonna kill him,' Xander said, keeping his eyes firmly on the road in front. 'Just … you know, lay siege to his home and rough him up a little. Give him the clear message that he's not welcome in Sunnydale.'

'So we're gonna frighten him into running away?'

'That's the plan - and maybe get a few good hits in - that thing kidnapped my Cordy and held her prisoner. He did something to her mind - god knows how she escaped.'

'Yeah - why did she escape? If she seems to like him so much.'

'I don't know,' Xander said calmly, 'all I know is that I don't like what I don't understand and frankly, this monster creeps me out. So we're gonna go out there, guns ablazing - stake out the house, break and enter, smash through the double glazing - drive him out, run him off, then the heavens we'll be praising - you know, we'll get the beast!'

**...**

Trapped in her house, Cordelia paced up and down, her hands running through her hair until it stood up wildly on end. 'This is all my fault - I have to warn Doyle. Daddy! What am I gonna do?'

'We'll think of something,' he said to her, comfortingly, trying to calm her down. She came to a halt, stared at the cop guarding the door and narrowed her eyes.

**...**

The servants were gathered together in the great hall - sadly cleaning up from the festivities of earlier. Everything had seemed to be going so well - they had seemed to be so close … and now they were further away from breaking the spell than ever before. They would remain trapped inside the enchantment - possibly forever. 'I suppose we were wrong to get our hopes up,' Liam said gloomily. After all this time, they should know better than to get their hopes up.

'Maybe it would have been better if she had never come at all,' William agreed. He was collecting up the candles, but he dropped them all and rushed to Drusilla's side when she suddenly let out a deep moan and wilted on her feet. 'What is it, pet?'

'There's someone coming!' she cried out, with her eyes shut tightly. 'There's someone at the door.'

Despite his earlier words, Liam still felt the sudden leap of hope inside his chest, 'could it be…?'

'Is it Cordy?' Darla asked. They both rushed to the window to look out, but their hope turned sour and dread rose in its place when they saw the entire line of traffic, car after car after car pulling up to the mansion and people getting out - wielding makeshift weapons.

'It's an angry mob!' William said, joining them at the windows.

'The towns people - they must have found out,' Liam said.

'Look -' Darla pointed at a young man, at what he was holding in his hand, 'they have the mirror!'

'We need to warn the master,' Liam turned to his fellow servants to give the orders, 'if it's a fight they want - we'll give it to 'em.'

...

Out in the driveway, Xander called out to the crowd. 'Remember - we gotta look for other prisoners, and any bodies - he could have buried them anywhere. Search the whole mansion. Be careful - and leave the beast to me!'

...

Flying into action - Drusilla was sent to go and fetch Aud, and the men started to grab all the furniture they could lay their hands on and drag it over to the door, building a barricade. But outside, a man in a pick up was driving repeatedly at the door, using his truck as a battering ram.

...

Darla knocked cautiously on the door to the west wing and then went inside; Doyle sat slumped in a chair. His rage had given way to depression and he looked utterly defeated, his shoulders hunched over and his head hung low, as he drank steadily from his latest bottle of scotch. 'Pardon me, master,' she said, her voice was as cautious as her knock had been - now did not seem a good time to interrupt him, but her news was too important not to be delivered.

'Go away,' he said to her, his voice was heavy - and made sulky by the booze. 'I just wanna be left alone … to wallow…'

'I understand that, sir - but the mansion is under attack!'

...

The pick up rammed against the door again and then backed up a little, ready for it's next assault. The waiting crowd cheered.

...

Inside the hall, the door shuddered - it was close to giving way and the barricade was not holding up. 'This isn't working!' William cried in frustration.

'But sweet Willy,' Drusilla said, 'we must do something!'

William looked around - the room was dark and shadowy, all the candles and the fire being extinguished since the aborted evening of romance. The chandelier was dimmed down low. It would be very hard for anyone unused to the dark to see clearly through the gloom. That gave him an idea. 'Wait! I know!'

...

'What do you want us to do, master?' Darla asked.

But Doyle only shook his head, and shuffled his chair around so his back was to her. So an angry mob was at the door? Funny. Just last week that had been what he was most afraid of in all the world. And now he found it didn't matter at all. Cordelia was gone - whatever happened to him next, he was beyond caring.

'Let them come,' he said to his servant, 'it doesn't matter anyway.'

Darla looked unconvinced, but left him to his maudlin introspection and went to join the others.

...

The pick up truck crashed one more time - and that was when the door gave way. In a moment the mob had swarmed towards it and pried what was left from the frame until the opening was wide enough for them all to pour through. They tiptoed inside. It was quiet and dark and seemingly deserted. There were no signs of life - though the shadows seemed to press in thick on either side.

Jesse stared around, wondering if they had maybe made a mistake - when suddenly a pair of red eyes gleamed at him from out of the darkness. He yelped and jumped about a foot in the air.

'NOW!' William shouted - and the shadows came to life, and swamped the intruding townspeople.

**...**

Cordelia walked up to the cop, guarding the door. 'Hey - you know - we really don't need you to be here,' she said to him.

He folded his arms across his chest, popped his gum loudly and shook his head. 'I'm staying - until they all get back and that monster - that freak - is history.'

She bristled with rage at this slur against Doyle, but managed to swallow her anger down. 'The entire town has gone up there. I think they can handle it. We don't need babysitting.'

'Nuhuh - nothing doing.'

'OK - OK - I respect your dedication to your job, it's just …' she cut herself off and glanced over his shoulder. Then she narrowed her eyes as she peered out of the hall window into the dark street.

'What is it?' the cop asked her.

Her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped open. 'Oh my god,' she squealed - and pointed a trembling finger, ' _what is that?'_

He whirled around to see what she was staring at and, the moment his back was turned, Cordy picked up a heavy and expensive vase from the side and smashed it over his unsuspecting head. He crumpled, falling to the floor like a dead weight.

Cordelia brushed her hands off, letting all the stray flakes of vase dust fall to the floor - raining down on top of the unconscious policeman. 'Stay here, daddy,' she said to her father, 'I'm going to help Doyle.'

**...**

All hell had broken loose in the hall, where the townspeople tried to grapple blindly with shadows - and meanwhile the shadow people themselves flitted to and fro, hiding in the darkness and hurling furniture like missiles.

Xander broke away from the crowd. So the mansion was haunted by more than just the beast - that was a setback, but they still needed to find out if there were any more people trapped and held prisoner here against their will and … he quite wanted to lay eyes on this beast himself. See it for real.

He ran up the stairs. He had taken the tire iron out of his Uncle Rory's car and was holding it like a baseball bat. Making his way up to the upper floors, he started to carefully push open all the doors on the landing - not quite knowing if he wanted to find people to rescue, or a monster to fight…

...

Downstairs, one man had grabbed hold of Drusilla round the neck. He held her in a choke hold with one arm, whilst he waved his gun about in his other hand. Drusilla cried and choked.

laughing to himself, as he popped up behind some fat old bloke and knocked him out with a chair leg, William turned and saw his black goddess in danger.

Aud was using a heated curling iron to batter away at their attackers, scalding them with every swing. Darla was up on the landing, pouring boiling water from the kettle down on the people below and Liam was hurling everything he could get his hands on around the room; launching the furniture at the townspeople as if it were a blunt force weapon.

But when William saw Dru in danger like that, struggling away right beneath the chandelier - it was like the whole room went still and nothing else mattered, no one else was there. Just him, Drusilla, and the threat to her safety. Snarling like an animal, he ran a couple of steps and then leaped at the man who held her. There was a brief tussle and then William head butted the man. The man stumbled back, letting go of Dru, she wilted into her champion's arms - but as the man staggered away in pain, his fingers twitched against the trigger of his gun and the pistol went off, sounding like a canon as the noise echoed against the high ceilings. The bullet went straight up, and hit the stem holding the chandelier in place - before ricocheting off and bouncing around the room.

People shrieked and ducked for cover until it finally ran out of impetus, hit against a banister and fell to the floor. There was a sudden hush across the room - and then with a great creak, the chandelier stem splintered and snapped. Everyone screamed again and ducked for cover - again - but the chandelier only dropped a few inches, and then dangled dangerously by a thread from the broken stem.

**...**

Cordelia pressed the gas pedal down until it was flat against the floor and sped up the roadside into the hills. Her heart was beating erratically in her chest, so loud she could hear it, and her every nerve jangled with anticipation and dread. 'Come on come on come on,' she muttered under her breath, willing her car to go faster, willing the road to be eaten up more quickly, willing the mansion to loom suddenly into view. 'Come on…'

**...**

As silence overtook the hall, and all the townspeople stared upward - holding their collective breath, waiting for the chandelier to plunge to the earth - the shadowy servants seized their moment and surged forward - sweeping the intruders up and pushing them back out through the broken doorway.

What with guns going off, light fittings falling and an army of red eyed shadowy ghosts attacking them, the people of Sunnydale were only too happy to be pushed back outside - and they began to stampede for the door.

Once the last one was through, William and Liam heaved the heavier furniture back into place as a barricade, whilst the women celebrated their victory. 'And stay out!' Liam yelled at the fleeing and defeated mob, before pulling Darla into a triumphant hug.

...

But they did not realise that Xander was still inside the mansion. Many floors above the servants, the young man was creeping down the corridors - pulling open the doors and peering inside. He found nothing, in room after room after room. There were no prisoners, there were no bodies, he was even beginning to suspect that there was no beast - though the mirror had shown the monster plainly enough…

Eventually, however, he searched his way around the entire mansion until he reached the west wing. This place felt different, it was cold and shivery. It was darker than the rest of the place, and all the mirrors had been smashed. Xander gripped his tire iron tighter, adjusting his hold so he was ready to swing … this place felt right, the sort of place a monster might hide.

He reached a closed door, he nudged it with his toe and it creaked a little - counting to ten, he took a deep breath and kicked it open.

And there it was - the beast! Just sitting there in a chair, clinging onto a bottle of liquor and looking like he was feeling very sorry for himself, underneath all those hideous spikes.

Doyle looked up when he heard the door fly open. He saw a young man standing there, gripping a tire iron like a weapon and looking more surprised than dangerous. Doyle grunted, turned his head away and took another drink, ignoring the young man completely.

The young man bristled with anger.

'What did you do with them all?' Xander asked, his voice trembled with something between fear and anger.

Doyle, not understanding the question, didn't bother to answer and just had another drink instead.

'I said where are they? The other people you took prisoner, the people you killed, you freak, what did you do with them?'

That made Doyle look up, his expression was twisted up in irritation. 'I never killed anyone.'

'Is that a fact?'

'I mean … yeah, it is actually.' He took another swig from his bottle.

'You expect me to believe that _my Cordelia_ was the first person you took prisoner?' His voice wobbled with barely concealed outrage.

'Well - she was the second,' Doyle mumbled, the alcohol taking its toll and slurring his words. 'Technically her dad was the first person I took prisoner …' then something Xander had said seemed to register in his brain, understanding clunked into place. ' _Your Cordelia_?' he said, 'so … you're the ex boyfriend. Huh … figures…'

'Cordelia told you about me?'

Doyle looked him up and down, sizing him up. 'She did,' he said - his voice giving away nothing - and then he shuffled the chair further round, so his back was to Xander - decisively ending the conversation.

But that only served to annoy the younger man, which was perhaps why Doyle had done it in the first place. 'Hey!' Xander stepped into the room, marching towards the chair and the monster sitting in it. 'I'm not done here.'

Doyle looked unimpressed, 'get outta my house.'

'Get outta my town.'

'No.'

Xander stepped round so he was facing Doyle and looked down at him, he gripped the tire iron more tightly. Doyle stared up at him. 'You plannin' on usin' that thing?' Xander broke eye contact to glance at the weapon. But he didn't swing it. Doyle snorted. 'Thought not.'

'Are you just gonna sit there?' Xander demanded.

'That's the plan - but with added drinking.' He took another hearty swig from the bottle to punctuate his point.

'What kind of monster are you? You take people prisoner - lock them up in your fancy mansion - and then just sit there and drink when you're under attack…'

'Hey, you know this my house - so we'll have less o' the 'freak' and 'monster' stuff if you don't mind, bud. I'm ugly. Get over it. Cordelia did.'

'Right - sure she did,' he sounded disbelieving. ' _Cordelia Chase_ somehow looked at you and saw right past those hideous spikes and your green skin.'

'I mean, a fella can't help what colour he is,' Doyle mumbled.

' _Fellas_ aren't green, Cactus Face. Monsters are. And if my Cordelia was not _disgusted_ by what you are - then it's because you did something to her, some mind control, tricked her somehow…'

'I never…'

'Made her forget that you kidnapped her and held her against her will. Did God knows what to her…' his jaw clenched in anger, and he swung the tire iron.

Seeing it coming, Doyle flung himself out of the way - he tumbled to the floor, head over heels, knocking his chair over as he went. It landed on top of him and he lay underneath it, blinking up at Xander in disgruntled surprise. 'Now what did you go and do that for?'

But instead of answering, Xander stepped forward, swinging once again with his metal bar. Doyle barely had time to scramble out from under the chair and scooch out of the way. The tire iron smashed into the wood of the floorboards, breaking them open. Xander hauled it back out, but when he looked back up - Doyle had fled.

**...**

Cordelia pulled up outside the mansion. The place seemed dark and deserted - all the cars had long since gone, except for Xander's Chevy. The dread welled up inside of her - maybe she was already too late…

The doorway was blocked, barricaded by furniture - so she went round the sides of the mansion, looking for another way in.

**...**

Xander caught up with Doyle down on the landing. He had longer legs than the monster and the added advantage of not being drunk. He grabbed hold of Doyle by the shirt front, who stumbled as he tried to tear himself free. 'Leave me alone!'

'Oh I'll leave you alone,' he raised the tire iron, 'once I've run you out of town.'

'This is my home.'

'Not any more. Were you in love with her? Is that it? Did you honestly think she would agree to stay here with a freak with a face like yours - and be happy?'

But Doyle managed to pull himself free and staggered and lurched his way down the corridor, away from his attacker. He didn't get very far - tripping over his feet and falling to the floor before he had taken more than a few steps. Xander reached down and hauled him back up again. 'You know you could at least fight back - you're so pathetic you're kinda making me feel bad to be beating you up. Is that the big plan? Be such a wuss even _I_ feel sorry for you? Or is it that you're just too _kind_ and _gentle_ to fight back...' he laughed derisively, 'more like too drunk.'

'I might've drunk less if I knew I was gonna get beaten up later,' Doyle slurred.

'I don't know - I've heard it dulls the pain.' He gave Doyle a shove so they were at the top of the grand staircase and raised his tire iron ready to smack the smaller man a terrific blow.

But that was when Cordelia managed to successfully break into the grand hall through the courtyard doors. She looked up and saw the two men standing there - one cowering, one ready to strike - and was filled with a simmering, white hot fury. 'Xander Harris you stop that, _this minute_!' she yelled up the stairs.

Both men froze, on hearing her voice, and then turned to look. 'Cordelia!' they both called out to her at the same time.

'You hear me, Xander? Quit it!'

Xander looked at Doyle, half lowering his weapon on Cordelia's command. But now Cordelia was back, Doyle was no longer hollowed out with the grief of missed chances and lost love. He had a reason to fight back, to not just take the beating because nothing else mattered anyway. He had a reason to stand his ground and defend himself and his home. He straightened up - and his red eyes seemed to flash dangerously in the gloom.

Xander saw and took a hesitant half step backwards- but it was not far enough. Doyle balled his right fist and swung it as hard as he could. Then he jumped forward and followed up his punch with a headbutt, goring Xander right in the face with his spikes. Xander cried out and flung up his arm to protect himself, just as Doyle - still drunk - lost his balance. He teetered and tottered backwards, lurching right on the edge of the stairs for a terrifying half moment, and then tumbling down them, head over heels over and over - until he landed at the bottom with a crash.

Cordelia winced and then ran to his side, helping him back up. 'Oh my gosh, are you OK?'

'I'm OK…' he slurred, as she got him back to his feet and leaned against him to give him some support. 'I'm too drunk to feel anythin'...'

She smiled softly, 'I always said you need to control your drinking.'

He smiled too - and then looked at her, gazing into her face like he couldn't quite believe his eyes. 'You came back.'

'Of course I came back - I couldn't let them…' her arm suddenly snapped out to the side and she pointed an accusatory finger at Xander, who was taking the opportunity of their being caught up in each other to creep past and get the hell out. 'Stop right there this minute, Alexander Lavelle Harris,' she snapped - her soft and honeyed tones clearly only saved for Doyle.

He froze, and turned to look at her - his expression as rueful as it was fearful. She stomped over to where he stood, in the middle of the room, right beneath the chandelier - and slapped him as hard as she could, leaving behind a bright red hand print. 'What the heck were you thinking?' she demanded.

'I just … I thought …'

'You didn't _think_ , Xander, you never think - you just _do_. Rush headlong into one stupid disaster after another and you don't give a crap who you hurt in the process as long as you get to do whatever you want.' She kicked him in the shins.

'Ow,' he hopped a little, in pain, and then smacked her on her upper arm. She smacked him right back, upside his head. He grabbed hold of her hair and pulled. She twisted her head, screwing her face up in pain and tried to gouge him with her nails: 'let go of me you sissy hair puller!'

'You let go first.'

'No - get outta here,' she reached out and grabbed his earlobe, yanking it down. 'You got no right to be here.'

'Well how I was supposed to know you were into green guys with spikes on their faces?'

Above them, the chandelier creaked perilously on it's splintered stem. Neither of them noticed - too wrapped up were they in their hair pulling, face slapping, chick fight. 'You could just leave me alone and let me get on with my life!' she cried, kicking him in the shins again.

'How am I supposed to do that when I still love you?' He wrestled her into a headlock.

At the edge of the room, watching them and not quite knowing how to intervene, Doyle glanced up at the swaying chandelier, nervously. 'Uh - Cordelia…'

But she wasn't listening to him. She elbowed Xander in the stomach to free herself. 'You love me? That's your problem, buddy - you lost any right to be in my life when you cheated on me.'

'That was an honest mistake!'

The chandelier creaked again - sounding ever more ominous. 'uh - Cordelia,' Doyle tried again.

'An honest mistake?' she shrieked, 'what you just slipped and fell onto Willow's lips? Again and again and again?'

'I was confused! I didn't know what I wanted.'

'Well _I_ know what _I_ want - and it's not you, Xander. It's…'

With a great and deafening groan, the last of the stem gave way, fragmenting completely. As it snapped in two, the chandelier plummeted to earth heading straight for the fighting pair.

Doyle stood at the side and watched. It was like the whole world had slowed down - the fight, the falling light. He yelled out 'Cordelia!' and his voice sounded echoey and strange to his ears. He didn't make a conscious decision to move, he didn't remember moving - but one moment, he was standing there watching it all happen, feeling there was nothing he could do about it - and the next he was launching forward, pushing Cordelia and Xander out of the way.

And then just as suddenly, time sped up again. It seemed to go at double pace to make up for it's glacial movement earlier. Cordelia and Xander stumbled free of the danger zone, Doyle glanced up - and then a ton of crystal and glass and carefully wrought metal crashed down on top of him, and everything went black.

**...**

High up in the west wing, the final pink petal fell from the stem and drifted down to join the others - leaving the rose bare.

**...**

Cordelia and Xander stared in open mouthed horror at the smashed up chandelier. The silence in the room was deafening, palpable. There was no sign of life beneath the crashed light, except for one green arm sticking out from under the debris. The fingers twitched for just a moment, and then went still...


	8. Happily Ever After

With a great scraping and creaking sound, William, Liam and Xander heaved the remains of the chandelier up off the floor, working together to clear it out of the way and free Doyle - or what remained of Doyle. There was no way of knowing - until the chandelier was moved - if he had survived or if ... They were silent and solemn, and Xander was more than a little shamefaced as they cleared up the debris, lifting the wrought metal branches away from where Doyle must be lying, trapped.

Cordelia stood on the edge of the room, watching as they worked, tense and terrified. Her hands covered her face, her nails dug into her cheeks leaving little half crescent marks in her skin, and her eyes stared wide and scared, following the men as they worked to clear the rubble. Darla and Aud stood either side of her, silent but comforting, their hands on her shoulders - but she didn't seem to be aware of them. 'Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god' she breathed; one long, desperate stream of prayer tumbling from her lips.

Drusilla stood a little apart from the other women, her red eyes luminous and sad as she tilted her head in her curious way and watched the men work. 'Such a selfless act,' she crooned in her lilting voice, 'to sacrifice his own life for love…'

'No!' Cordelia began to cry, 'he's not - he's not…'

Darla threw a furious glance at Drusilla, who remained oblivious, and then rubbed Cordy's shoulder and made soothing noises. 'He'll be free in a moment, sweetie - just a moment longer.'

Finally, the men managed to lift the whole crystal and iron edifice of the floor and, straining beneath the weight, staggered to the side until they were clear of the crash site. As soon as Doyle came into view, lying quite still, Cordy wrenched herself free of the servants' grasp and ran to his side. She could feel all the eyes in the room on her, even Xander's, as she knelt beside the fallen man and reached out a trembling hand to touch him. He was still breathing, but only just - he was weak - and almost completely still.

Gently, she rolled him over so he was lying on his back and then bent over him, stroking his face. His red eyes drifted open, slowly, and a weak smile spread across his face. 'I'm glad you came back,' his voice was croaky.

'Of course I came back, I had to help, I…' the tears brimming in her eyes spilled over and rolled down her cheeks, her breath caught in her throat and she took hold of his hand, squeezing it. 'This is all my fault, if I'd got here sooner - if I'd just paid attention to where I was standing...'

He shook his head, he was still smiling - although it was a sad smile. 'It doesn't matter now. Maybe it's … maybe it's better this way.'

'Don't say that!' She shook her head vehemently.

'No - you - you have a life to get to. You got into Columbia…'

Cordelia breathed a laugh through her tears, as he repeated her constant refrain back to her. He laughed too - but it was weak. 'You can't stay here with me,' he told her, 'and I - I didn't wanna stay here without you … at least I got to see you one last time.'

'Don't talk that way,' she sniffed and shook her head again. 'We're together now, everything's going to be alright - you'll see.' She could still feel the eyes of the others boring into her, watching the scene play out, but she only had eyes for Doyle. They thought they were watching a final goodbye … she was determined it wouldn't be. 'That was so stupid,' she told him, 'and so ... brave. And selfless. Why would you do a thing like that?'

His eyes were starting to close again, his breathing was even weaker - his chest barely rising and falling. ''Cause - because…' it sounded like it was taking a great effort for him to speak, 'I love you.' And then he went still, his eyes closed fast, his hand limp in Cordy's.

She dropped it, clapping both her hands to her mouth in horror as she realised what had happened and shaking her head. 'No! No - please. Please don't leave me.' Her face crumpled. 'I love you...'

Above her head, there was a crackle of electricity and some sparks flew out from the now destroyed chandelier fitting. She ignored it, curling up and resting her head on Doyle's chest - her eyes were closed, but the tears still slid out from beneath her lids. Her breathing was ragged and disbelieving and she held him close, savouring the last of his warmth before it drained away forever and storing the feeling in her memory.

...

Watching the scene from the edges of the room, in a solemn circle, Liam wrapped an arm around Darla, she rested her head on his shoulder - looking on at Cordelia, sadly. William had bowed his head. Xander cast an uneasy glance up at the sparking light socket, and then across at Aud, and then also bowed his head, staring uncomfortably at his shoes. Only Drusilla stood separately - and she was watching the sparks, not the scene, and she alone in the room was smiling.

...

Above Cordelia's head, as she wept, the sparks grew bigger, and brighter - drifting down to earth like colourful raindrops. They fell faster and faster, shooting down to the ground where Doyle lay and Cordelia held him.

Looking up, William saw what was happening. He nudged Liam - who stared up as well, then Darla noticed. Drusilla had seen all along, and her smile became wide and knowing. Aud saw - and looked confused, and then Xander looked up - and his jaw dropped open.

Finally, Cordelia became aware of the sound of something soft striking the ground all around her and she opened her eyes and lifted her head to look. What she saw made her sit upright - and scooch away from Doyle, as the shower of sparks rained down on him, all different colours: blues and pinks and silvers and gold.

And then Doyle's body began to glow, from beneath his green skin a bright white light shone forth, it exploded from the end of his green fingertips - and then receded, leaving his hands pink and rosy; it shone from his face, causing the blue prickles to retract and pull inside, leaving his face smooth and human. And then just as suddenly the light died away, and - with a great, heaving gasp of breath - his green eyes snapped open and he sat up.

...

He stared around the room for a moment, as if not understanding what had happened or where he had gone, when everything had turned black - and then he caught sight of his hand. He brought it up close to his face to examine it, his eyes disbelieving as he saw his skin was no longer green. And then he brought both his hands up to feel his face, and his mouth dropped open in delighted surprise as he felt that the prickles were no longer there.

He caught sight of Cordelia - sitting a few feet away from him, staring at him like she'd seen a ghost. She had never seen his human face before - she might not realise … 'Cordy,' his voice was still croaky, 'it's me.'

'Well _duh_. Who else was it gonna be? Santa Claus?' And then she flung her arms around him and squeezed him so tightly he could hardly breathe.

He wrapped his own arms around her. 'It's OK,' he said gently.

'I thought you were dead,' she didn't let go.

'I think I was.'

'Then … what happened?' She pulled back, but still kept her arms more loosely around him - and looked around, wonderingly. Her eyes strayed to the destroyed chandelier, and she remembered what Drusilla had said. 'Your selfless act!' she began to laugh. 'You broke the spell.'

'I - I guess I did.'

'But then - everyone else …' she twisted around to look at the servants. More sparks fell from the ceiling, five of them, each one floating down and hitting one of the shadow people. One by one, they glowed - luminescent for just a moment - and then transformed. The shadows, which had made them up, began to dissipate - blowing away like curling smoke on a breeze. The red of their eyes dimmed and changed. Once the last of the smoke had drifted away the five of them were left standing there, their human selves once more .

'Liam!' Doyle said, as the tallest servant was transformed into handsome, dark haired man, 'William, Darla!'

'Oh my goodness!' Darla pulled the tip of her blonde hair round so she could see it.

'It's a miracle!' William cried, sweeping the now human Drusilla up into his arms and spinning her around. Darla reached out and stroked Liam's face, they stared very intently into each other's eyes.

Aud - newly human - stood alone.

'Uh - hey,' Xander said to her, feeling awkward and out of place in this place of magic.

'Hey.'

'I'm Xander.'

'Aud.'

'Careful Xand,' Cordelia giggled, still down on the floor with her arms wrapped around Doyle, 'she turned the last guy who cheated on her into a troll.' Then, still laughing, she turned back to Doyle. She ran a finger down his prominent nose. 'You know - you're not exactly the best looking guy in the world,' she told him.

'But it's what's on the inside that counts,' he said.

She grinned. 'Damn skippy,' and leaned in to kiss him.

**...**

And so that was the end of that, as much as stories ever end. The remarkable part of the tale, the magic and the romance, was done and it was time to get on with the next part - whatever that would turn out to be.

Everyone moved out of the mansion and - abandoned, as it was always supposed to be - Mr. Chase was able to buy it up cheaply and make a killing developing the land, which meant he was able to buy Cordelia all the clothes her heart desired. Xander got a job working on the site, it turned out he was pretty good at construction, and so his post high school life was immediately filled up with a steady job - which is more than he had dared to hope for. Aud stayed around in town, and the two of them started to date - and things went pretty well.

The other four servants wanted to get as far away from the scene of their imprisonment as they could. But they had been together far too long to split apart now, and so they travelled the world together as a little foursome, through Europe and China. And whilst it was true that Liam and William never really stopped fighting, and Darla was always more than a little irritated by Dru - these things paled into insignificance after their long enslavement and did not really get in the way of their enjoying their long awaited freedom, their whirlwind of adventure.

And as for Cordelia and Doyle … Cordelia _did_ go to Columbia in the fall and she _was_ the best dressed girl on campus. Doyle followed her out to New York and - now he was no longer green and prickly and didn't have to hide - he got a job as a third grade teacher and waited for Cordelia to graduate.

Weeks turned into months, months turned into years and they were all so busy living the next part of their story that they didn't have time to look back and miss the remarkable events which had led them there. Because the next part of their story turned out to be the good part - the best part - the part where _they all lived happily ever after..._

**The End**


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